


The Wand Chooses

by DreamerEye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 17-Year-Old Harry, Drama, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerEye/pseuds/DreamerEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort, obsessed with defeating Dumbledore, conscripts Gregorovitch into making the most powerful wand. Little does he know that the famous wandmaker is retired. Or that the man's son, the brains behind the operation, is really Harry Potter in hiding. Will either be able to fight rising feelings for the enemy? Slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "words"
> 
> 'thoughts' (italicized)
> 
> -parseltongue- (italicized)

October 31st, 1981 found Albus Dumbledore fiddling with the ends of his beard as he sat in his office. It was a nervous tick of his, one that subtly displayed his anxiety and distress.

He knew something terrible would happen tonight - something involving Tom Riddle, who now called himself Lord Voldemort. Albus could feel it in the air; an uneasy chill that promised pain and danger.

The warning could even be coming from spirits of the afterlife - Halloween was the day that the barrier between the dead and living was the weakest after all. It was also a powerful day for the darkest of Dark Arts, and Tom, knowing his twisted mind, would take it as a good omen for whatever evil deed he was planning.

Albus thought of the prophecy, the main factor that would surely drive Tom's hand. It spoke of a child that he would mark as his equal in power, and thus become a threat to the dark empire he was on his way to building. But would it be little Harry, born to James and Lilly Potter, or Frank and Alice Longbottom's son Neville? Both fit the qualifications mentioned in the rest of the prophecy, but which would Tom choose as his equal? Albus had placed both families under secure wards, but even that didn't calm his troubled mind.

But he had no more time to think - the wards around the Longbottom house had fallen, signaled by the beeping of a silver gadget on his desk.

' _So Tom has chosen,_ ' was his last solemn thought before he activated one of the many portkeys hidden in his robes. The portkey deposited him in front of Longbottom Manor, and into mild chaos. It seemed he had already missed the majority of the action, and was now witnessing the shocked reactions now that things had calmed down.

Albus walked quickly to the front door, past a group of Aurors that were surrounding restrained wizards; 'Death Eaters' as Tom called his followers. The loud cackle of crazed laughter followed him into the building - it must have been Bellatrix Lestrange among the arrested - where he met Augusta Longbottom.  
She was holding a sniffling toddler in her arms, and her face had dust and tear-tracks on it.

"Neville?" He asked while looking at the young boy.

"He wasn't harmed," she answered stiffly. "I ran to grab him as soon as I heard them break down the door."

"Frank and Alice?" He continued after a pause. Her face twitched before it settled again into a stiff mask.

"They've both gone to St. Mungo's. The healers suspect torture using the Cruciatus..." Her voice trailed off into grieving silence.

Albus sighed softly. Those were two more people who's lives were ruined by Tom's mad hunger for power. Not to mention Augusta who had lost her only son and daughter-in-law, and poor little Neville who only had his grandmother now.

"Well at least Tom did not hurt Neville tonight," he said, to console himself and the Longbottom matriarch.

"Well it's good he didn't show up, else Merlin only knows how much more damage there would have been," she muttered angrily.

He was surprised by her answer, and started to respond when the ring on his left pinky started to glow. They both stared at the ring before Albus turned and rushed back out of the manor. Bellatrix was being hoisted to her feet as he passed, and she smiled widely at him.

"You're already too late Dumbledore!" She jeered, ignoring the aurors that were trying to quiet her. "By the time you arrive my Lord will have already destroyed the Potters! We may have failed here but my Lord will be victorious!" She laughed loudly, and the sound seemed to follow him through the portkey, and still echoed softly behind him as he landed in front of what was left of the Potter cottage.

Grimly Albus raised his wand as he approached the entrance to the house - the door had been smashed off of its hinges providing a glimpse of the destroyed living room.

He instantly shot a Stupefy at the figure standing by the fireplace, who quickly turned and blocked the spell. It was Tom, and Albus saw with rising panic that he had little Harry in his arms. The baby seemed to be under a sleeping spell, since he wasn't moving aside from the rising of his chest. Unlike the snake-like appearance he had the last time Albus had seen him, Tom had regained the beauty he had since childhood, and was handsome and charismatic. Tom smiled nastily at Albus' pale face, and gestured around the destroyed room they were standing in.

“Do you like what I've done with the place, Dumbledore?” he asked mockingly. “I thought it needed a little....redecoration.”

Albus gave the room a quick look around, taking in the shredded couch, the burned drapes, and the smashed picture frames scattered over the floor.

And there was James, lying two feet away from him with his wand hanging out of his limp hand and his glassy eyes staring up at the ceiling. Next to him was Lily, her face forever frozen in a look of horror and her body stretched as if she was reaching for something. Both had cuts all over their bodies, implying they'd suffered injuries from Tom's wand before being killed.

' _Poor Lily and James, they never had a chance_ ,' Albus thought sadly. But now was not the time to mourn - Albus straightened and griped his wand tighter.

“Let Harry go,” Ablus demanded.

Tom just watched him, his grin widening. “I think not, old man! I won't kill him now, but I'll make it impossible for him to kill me later.”

Turning quickly, he threw some floo powder into the fire. Albus shot another Stupefy at the other man, which was blocked once again. Tom smirked as he jumped into the fireplace, but didn't notice the wandless pinching spell Albus sent to him at the last minute. He gasped when the pinch registered on his arm as his body flew through space, causing his arms to loosen for a second. In that moment Harry slipped from his arms and disappeared. Tom arrived a moment later alone in front of his own fireplace, with nothing show for the night's effort except for several followers behind bars. His scream of rage echoed through his manor.

Back at the Potter Cottage, Albus continued watching the now dark fireplace, contemplating the possible future that would result from both his and Tom's actions. He knew the spell had registered. The only question now was where Harry was.

“And thus the race begins to find the Chosen One,” he murmured, then turned away. He would think about his next steps later; now he would morn the loss of four close friends, and try to console those that remained.

***

Mykrew was on his way upstairs to bed when he heard the sound of someone arriving through the floo. Turning curiously, he slowly made his way back down and to the living room, stopping in the entrance to stare at his unexpected guest. A baby was sitting in front of the fire, throwing soot over the floor and giggling.

He stared, shocked, before pulling his wand from his pocket. First, he cleaned the mess the child was making, bringing a small pout to the boy's face. Next the child was brought into his arms, gurgling happily as he flew through the air. 

Mykrew held him gently as if he feared he might hurt the boy – he'd never held a baby before. Looking the boy over, he took in the plain white t-shirt, under dark blue overalls that had a small lion stitched on the chest in gold thread. Under the lion also in gold was the name 'Harry'.

“Well Harry, let's get you settled in,” Mykrew hummed to the baby, deciding instantly to keep him. After all, no one would suspect he was the well-known wandmaker Mykrew Gregorovitch if he had a baby with him. They would assume, rightly so, that he was a retired old man, taking care of a young boy he had adopted or some such story.

With a nod of his head, he returned to the stairs, thinking that the empty third bedroom would make a nice nursery for Harry. He ignored the door to the second bedroom, and the little clench in his heart as he passed it. The boy was already settling down in his arms, a sleepy expression on his face and his thumb in his mouth. Smiling gently for what seemed the first time in a long while, Mykrew made plans for the future with his young charge, and was for once happy while thinking of something other than wands.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who who has reviewed and decided to follow this story! I love the enthusiastic reviews, they make me laugh :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
> _-parseltongue-_

Harry ran his fingers along the row of drawers before coming to a stop in front of one with a small white knob. Pulling open the drawer, he looked down at a pile of white sticks, all with dark brown horizontal lines. They were all different lengths but each was very slim, reminiscent of long pale fingers.

He shuffled through the pile and slowly pulled out one of the shorter sticks, careful not to break any of the smaller twigs that were attached. He looked back and forth from the pile to the one in his hand, before scratching his ear.

“Are you sure you're ready though?” he whispered to the small stick. “I'm pretty sure you'll grow a leaf soon...” After another moment of staring at the stick, he nodded hesitantly and closed the drawer. “If you're sure then....”he murmured.

Harry brought the stick to the work table in the middle of the large room, and placed it in a wide tray. It was made of white marble, with engravings traveling around its low lip. There was an identical tray right next to it, separated by only a couple of inches.

Leaving the wood, he walked over to the wall opposite the rows of drawers. This wall was covered from floor to ceiling with shelves, upon which were thousands of glass vials filled with different objects. Each vial was unique – some were more round or thin, while others varied in height. There were also those that had tinted glass, from clear glass through every shade of the rainbow, to pitch black making it impossible to see the contents inside.

Starting at the far end of the wall, Harry started to walk it's length while glancing at different jars. He hummed lightly as he went – it was a random melody that changed tempo and rhythm occasionally. At the middle of the wall he stopped suddenly, continuing his tune as he stared at a shelf three rows from the bottom. He crouched down and reached in towards the back of the shelf and rummaged around before pulling back. In his hand was a small yellow-tinted vial, labeled 'Kneazle Heart-string'. Ending his tune he returned to the table and opened the vial over the second empty tray – the bloody heart-string slid from the container, leaving a thin trail of dark blue slime in it's wake.

With both of the trays filled, Harry pulled his wand from behind his ear and started to chant, twirling his wand in a figure-eight pattern. The language was a mixture of Gaelic and Old English, dating back to long before the separation of Light and Dark Magic. This spell was normally used to bond two like-minded people together, to reveal their similarities and unite them under common goals.

As he continued to chant, the two trays moved closer and closer together, until they were touching side by side. With the final syllable of the chant and a quick burst of light, the trays were replaced by one large tray. In the middle was a very pale wand that curved gently to one direction before jerking the opposite way at the point. Harry picked up the wand and angled it slightly in front of his face.

“Well I hope you two will be happy for many years in there,” he whispered to it, “And here's to you finding your true partner!” He patted the wand gently, looking up when he heard a light knock.

His father stood in the doorway behind him, a gentle smile on his face.

“What have you made this time?” he asked curiously.

Harry shrugged and lifted the wand towards the man, who walked forward and took it. He rolled it in his hands, then held it in front of his eyes.

"How interesting! Clearly birch wood, rather short isn't it? Only six and a quarter inches..." he tapped the wand across his palm several times. "Yes, quite interesting, and the shape is different. I can tell it's heartstring, but definitely not dragon..."

Harry smiled slightly and waited. His father loved trying to guess his wand combinations, but always seemed to falter at the cores. The man quirked his eyebrow, and Harry's smile widened.

"Correct, it's not dragon. Kneazle."

"Kneazle?"

"Yes. Isn't it a good combination?"

The older man scratched his head as he stared at the wand, seeing it in a new light. "It's decent, I just wouldn't have thought the kneazle would agree so well. But why not dragon? It would be more powerful...."

Harry snatched the wand from his father and petted it, frowning at the man. "Don't say that! It's powerful enough for what it and its master need to accomplish..." Turning to look at the wand he brought it close to his face. "Don't listen to him," he whispered to it, "I know you'll be perfect for one lucky person. And power isn't everything." The wand vibrated a little in his hand then stilled.

Hearing the tail-end of his son's conversation, Mykrew nodded solemnly. "Too true, my boy, and don't you forget it," he said. Clapping Harry on the back, he then steered him towards the door. "As much as I enjoy watching you, we should go eat dinner, no?"

They paused in the antechamber outside of the crafting room, and Mykrew waited while Harry found a box for the new wand. The antechamber was filled with boxes of different sizes and styles, and Mykrew knew- from Harry of course - that some wands were particular about their containers. He was thankful that this wand wasn't too picky, since Harry only tried two boxes before finding the right one. The boy then ran past him, saying,"Hurry up old man! We don't have all day!"

Mykrew chuckled, continuing his slow pace. He definitely wasn't as young as he used to be, or even as young as he was when Harry appeared in his life, though his spirit felt younger. He couldn't believe it had already been 16 years since a sooty baby had landed in his fireplace, smiling and giggling happily.

And yet he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting to the one thing he'd kept from his son – his true parentage. Pausing in the hallway, Mykrew leaned against the wall, his face suddenly tired and heavy.

He remembered owl-ordering a heredity potion days after Harry arrived, and the shock at seeing the sad results – the words **“James and Lily Potter (deceased)”** staring back at him from the yellowed parchment. And while that was terrible, the bigger blow came years later, when Harry was 3. 

He'd been out shopping when he'd overheard two men swapping gossip. He lingered curiously, only to freeze when one of them mentioned a rumor that both Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore were looking for Harry Potter for an unknown reason. Trying not to bring attention to himself, he ended his shopping and hurried home.

Yes, he was ashamed that he'd lied to Harry all these years. The boy still innocently thought that Mykrew was his father, that his mother had died in childbirth; that the only reason they were hiding was due to Mykrew's adoringly fanatic customers. Yet that conversation had sparked the beginning of his paranoia, leading him to keep Harry hidden in his home for the last 14 years. But at least he was safe, and relatively happy. That was the most important thing, in the man's opinion.

Shaking his head, Mykrew surprisingly caught up with Harry who was standing quietly in the living room. The boy turned to him and cocked his had slightly; a moment later a small augurey fluttered onto his shoulder. The bird had feathers in several shades of green with black feathers scattered throughout its plumage.

Mykrew stared at the bird - he would always be amazed that Harry had learned the animagus transformation so young even though he'd suggested it as another safety measure. Wondering why Harry suddenly transformed, he found out a moment later. 

The air got heavy quickly, making it harder to breathe. There was a pause followed by a muted crack, then a man was standing in front of them. He had perfectly coiffed hair that fell in light waves, and bright red eyes. His outfit stated the difference between rich and wealthy, from his delicate black silk shirt and pants to the scaled over-robe that looked to be dragonscale. His stance screamed of arrogance, along with the power to back it up.

Mykrew gulped, trying to stay composed. "Lord Voldemort, it's a surprise to see you here. What may I help you with?" he asked quietly. He had an inkling the man wanted something to do with wands - why else would he visit a wandmaker?

"Gregorovitch," Voldemort replied. "It's interesting to find you here instead of your shop in Berlin. Are you....hiding...from someone in this remote village?"

"No My Lord, but I am retired," Mykrew answered hastily.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, glancing around the modestly furnished living room. "Regardless, I need your services. Have you heard of the Elder Wand?" he asked.

Mykrew paled. Of all the things to ask about...

"I have," he paused then continued. "I once had it in my store inventory."

At this Voldemort's eyes snapped to his face, and he took a threatening step forward. "And now?" His voice hinted at imminent pain depending on Mykrew's answer.

He decided for the truth - he was sure Voldemort would find out one way or another.

"It was stolen from me several years ago," he said. The augurey shifted its wings under his trembling arm, catching Voldemort's attention briefly.

“...and do you know who it was?” Voldemort asked. He'd taken a deep breath, and was now rolling his wand between his fingers.

“No, my Lord,” Mykrew said softly. There was a long silence, and he wondered if the man would curse him.

"Well," he replied after a moment,"I don't accept failure in anyone. You'll just have to make a more powerful wand."

Mykrew gaped, then responded. "I shall do my best My Lord - though it will take some time to make something more powerful than the Elder Wand...please come back in a couple of days and I should have some samples for you to try."

Voldemort stared at Mykrew then nodded. "We shall try this your way then. Don't think of running away - I'll find you and you won't like the consequences," he warned.

Mykrew nodded, believing the man's threat. With his agreement Voldemort wasted no time and apparated away. With his departure the air cleared, and the whole house seemed to breathe a little easier.

Harry, who had been quiet up till now, started cawing loudly, startling Mykrew who had taken that moment to relax. "This is not something to be excited about," he scolded with a frown. "That man is asking for the impossible!"

Harry gave him an unimpressed look before transforming back into bid human self. "Then why did you agree?” he retorted.

“There was no other option!” Mykrew said. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing the neat strands. “This is a disaster...”

Harry paced around the room, his eyes bright and eager. “But Father! Think of the possibilities – to make something more powerful than the Elder Wand! Also why didn't you ever tell me you used to own it?" Harry pouted.

Mykrew ignored him and headed towards the kitchen. "No, he's asking for the impossible. And I won't be doing it," he muttered. Harry quickly blocked his path, shocked.

"But why not?"

"Because I'm retired, Harry," he replied tartly. His patience with the conversation was wearing thin. "I'm not going to go back on my promise to myself to stop making wands. You'll realize soon enough how much it can take over your life." He moved around the boy and continued into the kitchen. “Why do you think I moved to this small English village, in the middle of nowhere?” he called over his shoulder.

"Well I'll make it for you then," Harry said.

At that Mykrew rounded on the boy with an angry look. "You'll do no such thing - I forbid it! He can never find out that you're here!" He shouted.

Harry stared back, not intimidated. "Well someone has to make something for him," he replied calmly. "Or did you forget his threat of torture and or death? He'll find out eventually, I've heard he's a master legilimens."

Mykrew looked down. There was no arguing that point, however much he wanted to. They were stuck between two horrible choices - and both would probably lead to Voldemort discovering Harry's identity.

The conversation dropped as they prepared dinner, both lost in their thoughts. After they were done they returned to the living room and settled into the chairs in front of the fire. The house was a bit chilly with the season changing from autumn to winter, so the fire was warm and inviting.

Harry scooted his chair closer to his father and grabbed his hand. The older man glanced down in surprise - Harry had grown out of physical displays of affection long ago.

"I think it'll be okay Father," Harry said. Mykrew raised an eyebrow.

“I just have a feeling,” Harry added. Mykrew huffed irately, but tucked the boy's hand under his arm, both quietly thinking about this sudden disturbance in their lives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "words"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
>   _-parseltongue-_

The next morning Mykrew found Harry sitting on the floor in the wand room. He was meditating - a practice that had never helped Mykrew. Harry didn't do it often either - only when he was working on a complex project. He only waited a few minutes before Harry was done and slowly rising to his feet.

"You still plan on going through with this," Mykrew stated. He was mostly resigned to it, but he wanted to give his son another chance to change his mind. Harry nodded blankly - his mind was already far away calculating combinations and reviewing bonding spells.

"Dragon heartstring is definitely strong, but not dark enough for Voldemort,"Harry muttered. He raised his voice asking, "Father, what was the Elder Wand made of?"

Harry's voice startled Mykrew, who had almost given up speaking to him. The question made him sigh deeply.

"It was threshal hair encased in Elder wood," he said. His eyes were distant as he lost himself in the memory. "And before you make any plans the Elder tree is extinct - the last one to be documented was 300 years ago," he added, crushing Harry's next question.

"A wand more powerful than the Elder Wand will not be another wand just like it. You must find an alternate combination," Mykrew said.

Harry nodded, his face set firmly. His father excused himself quietly, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Taking a moment before he started working, Harry closed his eyes and listened to the room. He could constantly hear each wandpiece like a distant whisper, and now that he was focused  on them the sound swelled to a loud chatter.

The wood pieces were all humming lightly but he knew it wouldn’t last - they were currently resting and would become louder whenever he opened their drawers. Meanwhile the wall of vials was like a menagerie; there were barks and growls and chirps coming from every corner. Sometimes the animal parts mimicked the sound of their animal, but other parts made certain sounds regardless of the animal they came from. Harry soaked in the noise - this was his domain, his home. Shaking his head he pushed the sounds back.

_"What do I know about Voldemort....he seems cold, self-assured, definitely powerful...."_ he thought. Walking along the wall of drawers he stopped in front of the oak - it was a strong wood that could maybe stand up to Voldemort's power, as well as the strength of the dark creature core he had to choose.

Opening the drawer increased the volume of the humming oak sticks - they were excited, as if they could sense the importance of his project. Before he could protest several pieces jumped into his hand. Harry raised his eyebrows - they weren't usually this energetic, making him rethink his decision.

"Um...actually you guys can go back to sleep..."he stammered. They were reluctant but he eventually pulled them off of his hand and placed them in the drawer. However one refused to go - it clung to his hand like a barnacle while he tried to pry it off.

"Fine you come too! But I won't promise anything," Harry grumbled at it. The other sticks' sleepy protests were cut off when the drawer closed. The stick in his hand purred as if satisfied and amused by the others' failure. 

Harry scowled at it, muttering, "You might be right for him after all - you've got the arrogant part down." The purring increased and Harry snorted at it. He put it in the back of his mind as he then focused on the options for magical cores.

Walking along the shelves he stopped in front of the section for runespoors, looking thoughtfully at several vials.

"This is a good possibility...." Harry mused. "But which one is best?" He could go with the scales from the left head, the one in charge of reason. His hand hovered over the vial but his eyes drifted to one next to it.

_"Or....I could go with the venom from the right..."_

Harry moved towards the other vial, but one more behind them caught his eye. He paused, eyes flicking between the three, then his eyes lost focus as he listened to each vial. Harry nodded occasionally as they hissed to him, patiently giving each one their time to speak. Blinking suddenly he grabbed the third vial. 

"I think the unexpected might be better," he said. Mind twisting through various rituals that could work with the unique core, Harry quirked an eyebrow at the oak stick as he set it one the work table.

"You said you wanted this," he teased to it. Ignoring its quiver of fear he set to work, knowing he had several more wands to make and little time to do it.

The sun was setting; Harry was just rising, after having slept for a mere 3 hours. Two days had passed since Voldemort had made the demand for a powerful wand, and something told Harry that the ruthless man would show up tonight expecting results. 

So he'd worked through the day and night, taking power naps in between his work. Each wand took several hours since the combinations were so unique and dangerous. He was quite proud of them, but he also felt that they wouldn't be perfect matches for Voldemort though he hoped the opposite.

He changed his clothes and quickly left his room, hurrying down the stairs. Mykrew was sitting in the living room reading, and jumped at Harry's appearance. 

“Well look at this!” he said. “I haven't seen you for a whole day and you suddenly appear – come to spend time with your dear father?” he added cheerfully.

“No time, father!” Harry interrupted. “Voldemort's coming tonight, so you should be ready to present the wands I made.”

Mykrew gaped, before hastily closing his book and laying it on the side table. “Wha-? He's coming tonight?” he gasped. “But how do you know? And what are the wands?”

Harry gently pulled his father out of the armchair, straightening the man's clothes as he talked.  
“There are three: 11½ inch maple with hydra gas sac, the 14¼ inch birch with amphista venom, and the 12” oak with powdered runespoor eggshells,” he listed.

Mykrew started at his son then started to stammer. “Runespoor eggshells? But how on earth did you come up with that? And a hydra gas sac? The amphista venom?!” he babbled.

“Yes I know, father.” Harry said distractedly. He brushed off the man's shoulders and straightened his bow-tie. “Yes they're expensive and rare materials, but I think it's worth it. Besides, Voldemort will expect our best efforts.” With that he patted Mykrew on the back, then transformed into his augurey form.

“But-but-” Mykrew started, interrupted by the crack of apparition as Voldemort arrived.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “Talking to yourself, Gregorovitch?” he asked mockingly.

“No My Lord, my bird is just being a pest, cheeky little...” he said, trailing off with a glare towards the bird, who was calmly perched on the back of the armchair.

“Nevertheless, I've come to see if you've made any progress with my request,” Voldemort continued, staring intently at the older man. “I hope you have, for your sake,” he added menacingly.

Mykrew drew himself up, affronted, while trembling inside. “Of course I have, My Lord! I've made three excellent wands, that I hope will meet with your approval. I'll just-go get them, shall I?”

“And I'll just follow along shall I?” Voldemort added. “I'd be interested in seeing your workspace...”

Mykrew knew it wasn't up for debate, so he nodded quickly and led the way down the hall, shooting a dark look at the bird who attempted to land on his shoulder to join them.

Seemingly unconcerned, the bird turned to Voldemort and hovered in front of him. The man raised both eyebrows and stared back, snorting when the bird cawed impatiently. He lifted his arm, allowing the bird to land on it, then followed the wandmaker.

They shortly arrived at the door of the workroom, and Mykrew gestured towards the open door allowing Voldemort to precede him into the antechamber. He sputtered, seeing Harry sitting primly on the man's arm, but controlled himself by time Voldemort turned to him.  
At the man's impatient stare, Mykrew quickly turned towards the three wand boxes sitting on top of the small table next to the shelves.

As he picked up the first box he saw the small symbols on the side – they were shorthand that his son used to list the length and makeup of his wands. 

“So here is the first of the three – the ah – 12' oak wand, with a core of ah, powdered runespoor eggshells...” he said, reading the symbols as he spoke, thankful that his son hadn't left him on his own completely.

Opening the box he masked his surprise at the wand's appearance, and waited as the other man inspected it.

Voldemort wasn't expecting treachery, but he was still cautious. Reaching out with his magic, he felt for the wand, checking for any traps or hidden spells. Finding nothing he picked it up, jostling the augurey who screeched and relocated to his shoulder.

At his touch the wood started to vibrate slightly before settling down. After waiting for more, he lowered it back into the box.

“An interesting combination – I didn't know runespoor eggshells could be used as a wand ingredient,” he said. “The next one?”

Mykrew cleared his throat and picked up the second box.

“The next is the 11½” maple, with hydra gas sac,” Mykrew announced. He flushed slightly at Voldemort's disbelieving glance, adding, “We should try several options, right My Lord? One never knows what works until one tries....”

Voldemort ignored the babbling, picking up the the dark wood. At his touch the wand hissed ominously, and a trail of dark green smoke seeped from the end to wind around his body. Mykrew quickly covered his nose, panicking as he watched the smoke.

“M-my Lord! I swear I didn't know this would happen, I did not intend to poison you!” he pleaded.

“Be quiet you fool,” Voldemort snapped. “It isn't even poison. Though perhaps it could be considering it's core...”he murmured. Staring at the wand he flicked it in his hand several times, before placing it back in the box.

“While that wand is extremely interesting it isn't as powerful as I believe the Elder Wand to be. The last one?”

Harry felt his frustration rise; he knew his unfamiliarity with the man's personality would continue to be a problem during this project. His mind spun quickly, trying to formulate a plan before the man left.

Mykrew was extremely nervous – he hoped the last one would satisfy the tyrant so that the man would leave him and his son alone.

“The last one, ah...14½” birch, with amphista venom....”he stated, trying not to wince at the rare core.

Voldemort paused, staring silently at the wand. “Amphista...another term for the amphisbaena?” he asked.

“Yes, My Lord,” Mykrew replied, also staring at the wand. It was quite beautiful, and the length made it stand out compared to the other two.

Voldemort picked it up; there was no outward display from the wand but his eyes widened slightly. Harry, hopeful that this was the one, drooped slightly when the man returned it to its box after another moment. After a moment he straightened with determination. He'd come up with a plan – one his father wouldn't like, but might solve their problems.

“Very interesting, Gregorovitch,” Voldemort said. “While I'm not completely disappointed, I'm not yet satisfied. I'll return again soon to see your results, and I'll expect the same quality as these.”

He jostled the augurey from his shoulder causing it flap away, and turned to apparate, but right at the moment of departure he felt the weight return. 

Back in his workroom, Mykrew was frozen as he stared at the spot where Harry was just a moment ago.

“Oh Harry, you foolish boy” he whispered, “he'll surely discover you now, and then he'll kill you....”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> ' _thoughts_ '
> 
> - _parseltongue_ -

Arriving a moment later in his study, Voldemort stared at the black bird sitting calmly on his left shoulder. Raising his wand he quirked an eyebrow at the bird, which turned its head sideways to focus one beady eye at him.

“Avada Kedavra,” he murmured. The bird screeched in shock, quickly flapping its wings to doge the green jet of light. With a couple more flaps the bird landed on his right shoulder, calming as it focused its eye on the wand in his hand. Voldemort frowned, raising his wand again.

- _What is that thing?_ \- a hiss interrupted. Voldemort paused, then lowered his wand. The bird twittered softly; Voldemort curled his lip but ignored it in favor of answering.

- _It's an unwanted pest that belongs to the man making my new wand_ \- Voldemort said, turning to the large snake that was winding its way across the floor towards him. Reaching him, Nagini curled around his feet, staring up at the bird.

- _Can I eat it?_ \- she asked curiously. The bird seemed to sense it's survival was the topic of discussion, as it chittered aggressively at the large snake and flew to hover above it. Nagini made a small snap towards it, and the bird swerved quickly out of the way.

- _If you can catch it_ \- Voldemort hissed back, amused at the posturing of the animals at his feet. 

Suddenly Nagini lunged for the bird, who dodged her strike by quickly flapping to the side. With all of her strength behind the attack she couldn't stop her movement, and her fangs sunk firmly in Voldemort's ankle.

To his credit he didn't scream or yell, yet both Nagini and the bird quickly distanced themselves from him. Nagini returned to her daytime resting spot – a long black leather chaise that was positioned a few feet to the left of his desk and perpendicular to the fireplace. The bird fluttered overhead hesitantly before landing quickly on top of the bookcases that sat behind the desk to the right. After a moment he opened his eyes and unclenched his hand, the punctures from his fingernails healing rapidly.

With a dark glare towards his familiar he walked to his desk and sat in the large leather chair. ' _I believe I have a meeting with Lucius and Severus in about 10 minutes, then after that I've scheduled a mass meeting at 11pm..._ ' he thought, flicking through his daily planner. He knew others would laugh, but he found it necessary to schedule his days thoroughly – it had become mandatory when he'd revealed himself as The Dark Lord, what with all of the political meetings and events he attended. The bird fluttered down and landed again on his shoulder, invading his space as it peered at his desk. Absentmindedly he pushed it away, and it settled on the back on the chair. 

Looking at the day's events, he checked off **“ ~~Threaten~~ Meet with Gregorovitch”** , briefly thinking about the wand situation.

' _I believe it's going well so far...the man has been cooperating, and the first round of results were better than I suspected..._ ' Voldemort smirked, setting his wand next to the planner as he steepled his hands in front of him. ' _But he has self-preservation; he knows that tricking me would cost him his life. Perhaps in a couple of days I'll return and see what else he's created-_ ' his thoughts cut off abruptly at the loud cough to his right, which repeated and grew louder as he turned. The bird was coughing – Voldemort raised his eyebrows surprised – as if it was trying to throw up something?

Before he could speak the coughing reached a climax; his wand clattered onto the desk, covered in purple mucus that spread onto the open planner beneath it. He sucked in a breath, staring at his wand, then raised his eyes to the bird that was now calmly preening a feather. It was clear what the bird – no the mongrel! - had done, but the audacity of the creature stunned him speechless. To think that this bird would dare to eat his wand, and then cough it up onto his planner, staining the pristine pages with it's disgusting bodily fluids, was incomprehensible to him. Then the rage fell on him so strongly that he couldn't breathe, the air trapped in his constricted windpipe as he shakily picked his wand up from the desk. Nagini was silent for once on the chaise, as she watched the two anxiously.

“There will shortly be one less augurey in the world, I'm afraid...” he muttered, red eyes fixated on the feathered body perched behind him. Suddenly the bird took flight, flapping across the room towards the door of the study. “Avada Kedavra!” he hissed angrily, sending the spell quickly after it. Just when it seemed the bird was trapped the door opened to the face of Lucius Malfoy, who ducked the approaching feathered body and unknowingly missing the green spell by a hair.

“We've arrived, My Lord,” he said distractedly, as he straightened and watched the bird fly down the hall. “What on earth was that thing...” he trailed off as he turned and caught the murderous expression on Voldemort's face. Swallowing he slowly entered the room and bowed, taking note of the purple fluid dripping down the man's hand. Severus, two steps behind him, also bowed and hoped he wouldn't be punished as well for Lucius' mistake.

  


***

  


Voldemort ran his hands through his curled hair, sighing heavily. He was tired – the Death Eater meeting had dragged on into the night, leaving him with only a couple of hours of sleep. While he didn't require as much sleep as the normal person, he still enjoyed the activity and had gotten used to sleeping in. His sleep had also been disturbed by his need to carry out punishment on the foul bird invading his home. The desire for revenge had kept him tossing and turning all night, his dreams plagued by a cackling feathered monster that held his precious wand in it's clenched claw. The added pain of waking up early meant he'd started off the day irritated, which was an ominous warning for the entire manor.

Knowing he was in a terrible mood he isolated himself in his study, canceling appointments so that he'd avoid torturing his followers. Instead he worked on some legislative policies, taking his anger out on the bills on his desk. The afternoon had passed quickly leaving Voldemort feeling satisfied as he finished revising the last of 3 bills. Returning his quill to the quill holder and closing his ink well, he noticed Nagini winding quickly towards his desk.

\- _Master!_ \- she hissed quickly, - _I have something to report!_ -

He held out his hand, allowing the large snake to arch onto it and curl around his shoulders. 

- _What is it, my dear?_ \- Voldemort asked cautiously.

While Nagini was extremely useful as a spy, she sometimes reported useless information as if it was direly important. He had no desire to hear about more of his followers having sex in the hidden alcoves of his manor; and yet he needed to know the individuals in order to punish them for daring to taint his property....

\- _There was in intruder in your sleep-room last night,_ \- she hissed darkly. Voldemort turned his head sharply, fixing her with a dark stare.

- _And why am I just now hearing of this intruder? In my very bedroom no less, which you are supposed to guard?_ \- he asked, irritated. While he wasn't extremely worried, it was very rare for someone to trespass onto his property, especially into his private rooms.

- _I meant to tell you this morning! But then I caught a mouse, and fell asleep on the large boulder..._ \- she trailed off sheepishly. Voldemort rolled his eyes at her, holding in a sigh. Sometimes Nagini couldn't fight her natural instincts, regardless of being an extremely intelligent snake.

- _Well?_ \- he asked. - _Who was the intruder? What did he do?_ -

- _It was a boy_ – she replied. 

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. A boy? His mind started flickering through the possible suspects, but he let the snake continue.

- _He walked around the room, looking at the books on the shelf. Then he came and looked at you while you slept,_ \- she hissed angrily, baring her fangs at the memory. - _I would have bitten the boy for his impudence, but he used a spell on me! Then he left the room._ -

Voldemort shifted uncomfortably. It was odd for an intruder to simply watch him, and make no attempt to murder or harm him. It was especially worrying that the stranger then made it back out of his room without waking him, to wander and snoop through his manor unsupervised. It made him wonder what the boy had found, and who he reported to.

- _Anything else? What did he look like?_ \- he asked. He leaned forward with his full attention on his familiar.

- _He was small with dark clothing, maybe a hatchling? But I could not see him fully as he moved around because of the spell_ – Nagini answered. - _Maybe he will return tonight, will you trap him Master?_ \- 

Voldemort tapped his chin, planning and discarding various options. - _I will try to catch this boy. I'll wait and pretend to sleep, and you will lay next to me. When you sense that he's here, you will tell me, **stealthily**_ – he insisted.

Nagini hissed in agreement, then settled to sleep on his shoulders. But he couldn't relax as easily, now extremely aware of his surroundings and the noises that echoed through the study from the open bay window behind him. He made note that Nagini never mentioned seeing the intruder again; he could still be in the house, lurking and snooping in forbidden places. A motion to his left caught his eye – the augurey was resting on a perch that he'd conjured earlier this morning, and it's wings were fluttering gently as it watched some small birds chirp outside of the window.

Voldemort sighed as he watched the bird – it was ironic and annoying that his house elves were transforming his manor to meet the needs of this unwanted guest, and he had yet to get his revenge.

But back to the boy, he wondered who it was. The only young men he knew were children of his Death Eaters, but he doubted that any had the skill to invade his rooms. ' _Perhaps it's one of the younger Light supporters?_ ' Voldemort frowned at that. Surely one of his spies would know if the Light had such a strong member. With little information, he would just have to wait and see the intruder for himself.

Settled in his decision for now, Voldemort mentally prepared for his visitor, thinking of different ways he could go about catching the intruder.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I almost forgot to update - I got carried away playing Pokemon and I like to update before I go to sleep... ^^;
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
> - _parseltongue_ -

That night Voldemort was confident yet filled with anticipation as he prepared for bed. Hours earlier he'd gone into his private potion stores and taken an obscure potion - one that would allow his spirit to separate from his body and observe the physical world. While an observer would think him asleep, he would really be in a deep trance that enabled him to access his spiritual form. To activate the process he just had to mediate, and the potion would pull him deeper.

Smirking slightly, he removed his outer robe, leaving him in his standard black silk pajama bottoms, and pulled back the sheets.

-  _Remember, Nagini, the moment you detect the intruder, squeeze my hand._ –

-  _Of course, Master_  – she replied, slipping under the covers before him. Once she was settled he laid down and pulled the sheets to his chest, hiding the snake. With one last glance around the room he started to meditate, hoping to fall deeply into the trance before the intruder arrived.

Minutes or hours later he faintly felt snake scales on his palm. Slowly he reached for his spiritual body and opened his eyes. It was a delicate process, making sure that he only controlled his spirit without changing his physical state. If he put too much thought to it his physical body would wake up, breaking the trance and startling the intruder. But gradually his eyes opened, and with no sudden movements from his guest he determined he was successful.

He first noticed the intense color of the boy's eyes. They were such an interesting shade of green, like faceted emeralds that glimmered to his heightened eyesight. And the face, the face was extremely familiar...While he couldn't immediately place it, he put that aside and continued his study. The boy - or young man – had lightly tanned skin, with long black eyelashes that fluttered each time he blinked. Although wearing a hood, his hair seemed to be thick and messy, as Voldemort could tell from the strands of loose curls that framed his face. It wasn't the most beautiful face he'd seen, but there was something about the gentle curve of the cheek, or the slight upturn of the nose, that had him pausing briefly before continuing his examination.

As he took in the boy's appearance he noticed the thoughtful look on his young visitor's face. Deciding to study the boy from a different angle, he focused on his spirit form and rose to hover over the bed. Glancing down he saw his own ghostly appearance, but knew that no one else could see him.

Focusing again, he noticed the boy's attire. The clothing was simple – a navy blue hooded capelet covered most of his upper body along with the rest of his hair, with a grey long-sleeved knitted shirt under that. His black linen pants were tucked into knee high black boots, and were just tight enough to highlight his lithe frame. Voldemort pulled his eyes from the leather-clad calves, changing his guess of the boy's age from youth to young adult. He estimated that the boy was at least the same ages as Lucius' son, around 17 or 18 years old.

Voldemort stared, as the boy reached towards his sleeping face. Surely he wasn't about to be molested by a boy barely old enough to drink!  _'I wouldn't mind of course – he's quite good looking – but it won't be while I'm lying here helpless!'_   he griped.

"He looks so calm," the boy whispered, and touched his forehead and nose. A vague echo of the touch traveled to his spirit form, and Voldemort tried to repress his body's reaction, though he couldn't hide everything. His physical body shifted slightly, and the boy quickly backed away from the bed. Voldemort sighed, forcing his thoughts away from how pleasant the touches were. They were innocent and curious, and had surprisingly aroused him. Yet he couldn't think about that, or else he would lose the trance.

As the boy moved about the room, he considered possible motives.  _'It doesn't seem like he's going to try to kill me,'_   he mused, floating after the small figure that was examining the bookcases. The octagonal bedroom was very spacious, with several floor-to-ceiling windows that broke up the walls of bookcases. It was a very bright room during the day, and the light blue and cream color scheme was not one that people would expect of the Dark Lord.

_'Maybe he's here to spy? He seems curious, not like a thief snooping for plans...'_ he added.

Voldemort watched as he opened the curtained french doors that led out to the study. The room was still dark, but the boy moved around it as if he'd been there before. It was another interesting yet puzzling clue that he took note of, yet he still didn't recognize him. As the boy headed to his desk he had to reconsider his assumptions. Voldemort was slightly anxious – most of his plans were written in Parseltongue and there was no chance of the boy understanding, but the bills he'd worked on earlier were in English. Maybe that was the boy's task? To study upcoming government bills and report back to his opposition?

Once again he was baffled as the boy completely passed the rolled bills, instead reaching for his day planner. As he flipped through the pages, Voldemort could hear the boy muttering to himself, and sometimes sniggering lightly.  _'What's so amusing about my planner?'_   he wondered angrily.

"He even writes like a Dark Lord!" the boy teased. " **'March 15th: Torture Lucius for losing vote on bill 15'**  - aww, poor Lucius..." he added, flipping absently through past months.

"I know – I'll leave him a note," the boy said, smirking.  _'You impudent brat!'_   Voldemort mentally raged.  _' You're ruining my accuracy! And don't say "Poor Lucius", the man deserved it for failing me! I change my mind about finding you attractive!'_

He watched with frustration as the boy chose one of his good quills – his bill writing quill! - and dipped it in the inkwell. Then he flipped to a random page towards the back of the planner and hunched over the paper. Voldemort quickly floated behind the brat to see the words and only caught a glimpse –  **'Have a good day Voldie!'**  - before the boy closed the planner, chuckling. He didn't even see the date, but the boy was already heading towards the door.

Floating there next to the desk, he fiercely held on to the last threads of his patience, fighting against the urge to return to his body and curse the brat. He focused on the goal of this mission – to figure out the boy's identity and purpose - using it to strengthen his resolve. ' _He must have a goal - and I doubt he came all this way to play a prank, no matter how distasteful...'_ he thought, eyebrow twitching.

With the pep-talk repeating in his mind he located the brat, who'd made it down the hallway, and followed closely. The boy was certainly looking for something, but seemed to get distracted by each room that they passed. His personal library was lingered over until the boy forced himself away, while his potions closet was glanced at briefly.

Voldemort snorted as he followed the boy, irritated at the progress yet also relieved. If the brat had paid more attention in the potions closet he would have seen clues to Voldemort's current ghostly state - he was grudgingly grateful for the brat's ignorance, even if he was annoyed. His main irritation stemmed from the fact the boy seemed to have no intense goal in mind. He was wandering about Voldemort's manor, sticking his little button nose into the Dark Lord's business with no fear of being caught. And Voldemort had assumed that this intruder had some grand master plan to sabotage him…

He realized he'd missed something important when he noticed they'd arrived in one of the many parlor rooms that was located on the same floor of his bedroom. The boy was already crouched down on his hands and knees, with his head in the fireplace, and murmuring in low tones to whoever was on the other side.

He muttered several curses and pulled his eyes from the tight backside that was pointed in his direction, and floated closer to the fireplace to eavesdrop on their conversation. Now was not the time to get distracted by lust, no matter how enticing said body was!

"Of course I'm fine, father, nothing's happened! Although he has been shooting dark looks at me lately…" the boy whispered. Voldemort lifted an eyebrow - he'd remember seeing this face if they'd met earlier in the manor. What could he be talking about? ' _Unless he was disguised as someone else?_ ' Voldemort wondered suspiciously.

He ran over all of the people he'd seen, but there were just too many faces if he included all of those at the Death Eaters meeting. He didn't know all of his followers well enough to recognize if one of them was acting strange.

He missed a couple more words from the boy, but the caller's response - or rather the voice - made his brow furrow. It tingled in the back of his mind, and the name of the voice's owner was just escaping memory. As he thought he distantly heard the conversation continue.

"...It's going well I guess...I think I need one more ingredient but it should be done by tomorrow?" the boy replied. "Hopefully it is, I think the snake is suspicious of me. But other than that our plan is still in place."

And now they were talking about ingredients? ' _Is he making a deadly poison to slip me?_ ' he thought.

The corner of his eye caught the shine of the fire on Nagini's scales as she slowly entered the room, and Voldemort was filled with frustration. He couldn't warn her away from attacking the intruder, an action he would normally encourage, and he still didn't know his identity. On top of that, he could feel his concentration fading; the potion was wearing off, and his body was determined to finally sleep.

' _Dammit_!' He scowled darkly, forced to watch as Nagini inched closer. At least if she killed the boy, he could spend several days examining the body, he tried to console himself.

"Alright father, I'll-" the boy stopped as he finally noticed the snake a few feet away. "I have to go - talk to you tomorrow! Bye!" he said quickly and ended the firecall.

"Nice snake," he continued softly. Voldemort could see the whites of his eyes as they darted around the room looking for an escape. There was none - Nagini was blocking the door, and Voldemort knew her strike would get the boy before he could get past her.

The boy took a deep breath - what was he doing? - and then too late Nagini lunged, and Voldemort stared at her mouth full of feathers as a black bird whirled above her. An augurey. He choked, an automatic reaction even though he didn't need to breathe as a ghost, and watched the familiar bird mock the snake hissing on the floor.

Before he could determine just how he felt, realizing that the spy had been there  _all along_ , his vision blurred as he was pulled through the walls back towards his body. His last thoughts before he fell into an exhausted sleep: ' _That little brat!_ ' and then: ' _Gregorovitch has a son?_ '


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you everyone for your reviews! Sorry for the late update, my friends came over for the weekend so I didn't get any writing done...I'm behind for the next chapter, but hopefully I'll get back to my normal schedule. I'm so behind I haven't even responded to reviews... T^T I started a new job and I'm taking a couple of new writing courses, not to mention the other studying I have to do, but I'm going to do my best to catch up! Hwaiting~~!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> ' _thoughts_ '
> 
> - _parseltongue_ -

 

Voldemort stared at the reports in front of him but his eyes occasionally drifted past them to the perch in the corner. The bird had just flown in through the window, and was settling down to sleep. He'd panicked a little when he'd woken up to the empty perch, thinking the boy sneaked out in the night; he was relieved when he felt the gust of air as the bird fluttered past him that afternoon, though he was still baffled about last night's discovery.

He'd woken up confused, before suddenly remembering what had happened and sitting up quickly. His eyes had snapped to the bird immediately - the bird that was sleeping peacefully as if nothing had happened. He'd reached for his wand, thinking of ending the mystery but eventually decided to wait until the evening.

It was hard but not extremely challenging for him to act as he normally would. Though he definitely looked tired, he was as sharp as normal. Lucius had made the mistake of commenting on his appearance and had painfully learned that his health and magical strength was as powerful as ever. But as the afternoon wore on, he found himself returning to thoughts of the boy and how their confrontation would go.

' _I doubt he has the experience or skill to brew a poison_ ,' he thought. Brushing the feather of the quill against his bottom lip, he cast another quick glance to the snoozing bird to his left. ' _Then again, he's an animagus at - what, 17, 18? Who knows what else he can do..._ ' He had nothing to go on, no information about the boy or his purpose here; he hadn't even known that the boy existed until last night. His only facts were that he was forcing the father to make a wand, and that the son was an animagus.

' _I'll get my answers tonight,_ ' he thought, then stood to go eat dinner. At his motion the bird jerked awake, and fluttered to his shoulder as he left his study. He bore in silence, though a muscle in his jaw twitched at the audacity of the creature.

Dinner was pretty silent, with both the animals glaring silently at each other from opposite sides of the table. They could probably tell that he was not in the mood to witness their bickering. ' _But why would Gregorovitch send his son to spy on me?_ ' he thought again as he slowly cut his steak. ' _Is this part of some research for the wand he's making? That reminds me, I should go visit him tomorrow. I wonder if he'll come clean about his son..._ '

_\- Master, will you kill the bird-human tonight?-_ Nagini hissed, breaking the silence. She'd paused in her glaring to wind up the back of his chair, and now rested across his shoulders.

-  _I might, but I must first find out why he's here,_ \- he responded. A glance at the end of the table told him the bird was still sitting quietly on the back of a chair.

-  _Will we set another trap for it, Master?_ \- Nagini asked.

-  _No Nagini, you stay out of its way,_ \- he said. -  _I will catch him myself._ -

He was looking forward to the confrontation, and excited to face the boy directly. The evening seemed like it was crawling by, but finally it was time for bed. Slipping under the sheets, he silently created an illusion of himself sleeping, then settled in to wait. It was somewhat uncomfortable to force himself into a still position, but he would be patient. This time, there would be no fancy potions or tricks; he would just wait for the boy to reveal himself and follow him. Staring up at the ceiling he reviewed his questions as he waited for the boy to make his move. He heard Nagini settling into her normal sleeping spot - a large wicker basket that could fit a doberman, with several plump silk cushions that spilled out of it. Her light hissing lulled him into a doze until he woke up an hour later with a jolt, and remembered his incoming visitor.

He heard light footsteps in the corner of the room, then saw a figure approach. His eyes focused on the boy hovering above him, taking in the subtle details of the shifting green eyes and the light pink chapped lips. Once again the boy slowly moved to touch his cheek, the feather-light touch trailing down to stop at his chin. He didn't understand - was the boy fascinated with his face? Was he a follower with a childish infatuation, who only had the nighttime in which to act on his feelings?

"If only we could spend more time together," the boy whispered. "I'd like to get to know you more, even if you are a cruel bastard..." Voldemort quirked an eyebrow, the motion hidden by the illusion. Such cheek - it annoyed and intrigued him, but he wondered if the boy would have the same attitude when they spoke directly.

He stayed a moment longer, eyes darting as if he was memorizing Voldemort's features. Then he turned and quietly moved towards the doors, being careful to slowly ease them open to avoid squeaking hinges. He didn't know that his efforts in stealth were in vain, that Voldemort was already up and following close behind him. His path led him past Nagini's basket, and he motioned for her to stay behind when he saw her move.

They didn't travel very far - Voldemort had expected a return to the same sitting room of last night, but they stopped again in his study. He prayed the boy wouldn't tamper with his planner again; the night would be over very quickly if he ended up torturing the boy before he even questioned him. Speaking of the boy, he was was still unaware of Voldemort's presence, so focused on removing a long thin box from an inner coat pocket. Voldemort quickly examined it - it looked similar to the boxes in Gregorovitch's workroom. ' _Maybe the boy is just delivering the next wand...did he fly back to his father's house to pick it up earlier today?_ ' he wondered. Now the questions were starting to pile up, and his patience wore out.

The boy was opening the door that led out into the hall. He jumped when it slammed shut, then again when he noticed the arm coming from over his shoulder to keep the door closed.

"Leaving already?" Voldemort asked. He took a step closer, noticing the boy shiver at his body heat. "I'd like to speak with you, if you have the time," he added. He leaned down to catch the boy's reaction - tightly closed eyes and a deep breathe, then a jerky nod.

"Excellent. Let's start with who you are and why you're here," he ordered. "Come, sit."

The boy turned under his watchful stare and sat on the edge of the seat in front of his desk. His fingers twisted and worried the hem of his green sweater. Voldemort let him have the moment while he locked the door, then returned to the desk and leaned against the front edge. It put him extremely close to the boy, closer than was appropriate between strangers. The boy shrank back, before straightening in the chair.

"My father Mykrew wanted me to deliver this wand to you," the boy said.

"In the middle of the night?" Voldemort asked while smiling slightly. He raised an eyebrow, and the boy shifted in his seat. Yet he held to his story, amusing Voldemort with his persistence.

"He wanted you to have it as soon as possible, to get your opinion…" the boy added.

"Hm. And your name?" he asked. He would get as much information as he could the gentle way, and then they would try again with more forceful techniques.

"Harvey."

The boy glanced to the side as he spoke, and Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He didn't call the boy on his suspicious behavior, deciding to examine the box first. He'd return to the question later; he'd have to teach the boy the consequence of lying to him.

Sliding open the box, he picked up the light brown piece of wood. The stick had two carvings on the base, which were followed by straight lines that traveled down to the tip. He wondered about the ingredients - a faint hum reached his ears as he held it, and it felt familiar to him.

"Did he say what it's made of? I'd like to know the combination, even if it doesn't work," he mentioned.

"It doesn't work?" the boy said doubtfully, and snatched the wand from his hands. "How strange…"

Voldemort's mouth dropped open slightly, but he snapped it shut and glared at the boy.

"You need a lesson in manners, boy," he snarled, snatching the wand back. He stared as it disappeared again from his hands just as quickly.

"But it should work! What was wrong?" the boy asked while ignoring his threat.

"Give that back you rude little cretin!" he hissed and stood to round the desk.

The boy also stood, switching his gaze between him and the wand. "If it doesn't work why should you get to keep it?" he asked absently. Voldemort clenched his teeth, but tried to stay calm.

"I doubt you know anything about its defects, so give it back and I'll return it to your father."

Why did he have to explain himself to this boy? And why wasn't this conversation going the way he imagined it would? It'd been so long since someone refused his orders; part of him reveled in the challenge, while another part gnashed its teeth. Tired of the conversation, he shot a silent Stupefy at the boy. He didn't expect the boy to dodge it, or to run over to the windows behind the desk. Opening them quickly, he hesitated at seeing the large drop from the second story window to the ground.

Voldemort smirked - the boy wouldn't escape this time! But the boy still jumped out, and his smirk fell from his face. Rushing to the windows he saw a black bird gaining distance from the manor. ' _No!_ ' he thought angrily, quickly flying into the air after it, black tendrils of smoke streaming after his immaterial form.

He was catching up to the boy, but he was still out of reaching distance. All of his silent spells were dodged as the bird swooped erratically. They were getting close to the forest, which also marked the end of the wards - he had to catch him before then.

Getting even closer, Voldemort glanced back and forth from the bird to the approaching forest. Right as they reached the treeline his hand brushed soft feathers and he tightened his grip, but he slowed down just past the forest entrance when the weight disappeared. He looked down at the loose feathers in his hand, then further down to the now-transformed boy who landed on the ground hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs. A moment later the boy recovered and apparated away with his eyes squinted shut.

Stopping and landing on a thick branch, he slammed his fist against the tree trunk. He ignored the slight pain from the splintered wood, filled with anger.

' _This is the second time he's gotten away,'_  he fumed. His eyes widened and a moment later he apparated away, arriving in Gregorovitch's living room; it was empty of furniture, nothing but bare walls greeted him. With growing agitation he stormed through the small house, ripping open doors only to see bare spaces lacking furniture or anything else.

The final place he checked was the workshop that he'd seen the last time he was there. The empty shelves were definite proof that Gregorovitch had left - he wouldn't have left the pride of his life behind if he was never coming back. Voldemort growled as he walked through the small antechamber and into the larger room beyond it - it seemed to be the actual workspace, with empty shelves that had probably held various ingredients and tools.

' _That little worm fled!'_  Voldemort sneered, his eyes restlessly darting from one empty wall to another.

Finding no clues around the room, Voldemort returned to his study and the scene of his other frustration.

"Argh!"

His shout brought Nagini out of the bedroom, but she stayed by doors as she took in his enraged face. He still had the feathers he'd ripped from the boy's animagus form; he glanced down at the crumpled pieces then threw them away from him with a sneer. He then kicked over the chair in front of his desk; seeing the empty wandbox he threw it to the floor and set it on fire.

"And that brat!" he continued to shout. "How dare he defy me! And I didn't get his real name!"

Falling silent he silently cleaned up the mess from his tantrum then sat on the end of the chaise. Nagini curled up next to him and he started to pet her as he thought over the evening.

' _That didn't go at all the way I planned,'_  he thought. ' _I underestimated him, and it made me sloppy. But now I need a counter move - I won't let a child outsmart me….'_

He looked around the room again, trying to come up with a plan. His eyes landed on a bent black feather that had landed near the desk but managed to avoid the fire.

' _Maybe….a Dark tracking charm, using essence of the target's body part….would a feather even work?'_  he thought with growing interest. He quickly stood, startling Nagini who was settling back into sleep, and collected the crushed plumage that was scattered over the floor.

His mind was racing with possible modifications to the tracking spell - it would be challenging to get the right proportion of feather needed for success, and he had a limited supply of them, but he was confident that he could manage it. He headed to the library to research; he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight with the action so fresh in his mind.

Nagini watched him leave the room - she recognized the same gleam in his eye that he got whenever something fascinated him. Flicking her tongue, she wound her way to the floor towards the bedroom and her bed. She knew she'd find him the dusty-room in the morning, asleep on a table.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews! I've somewhat caught up, though now I've been distracted by several anime series...it's been so long since I've watched anime, so now I just want to watch all day and catch up with all my favorites! Unfortunately it's not possible... : Please enjoy the next chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> ' _thoughts_ '
> 
> - _parseltongue_ -

Albus Dumbledore was not all-knowing. But he was extremely lucky, and usually benefited from it several times each day. For instance, that morning he decided on strawberry jam and happened to avoid the school-wide prank that was placed on the cherry preserves. He also chose to take his morning walk outside instead of the castle, and therefore missed the horrible stench that swept through every floor due to a potions accident. Back in his office after his walk, he worked through several stacks of paperwork that had built up throughout the week when someone knocked on his door. Albus looked up from his papers, surprised.

"Come in," he said curiously. He didn’t have any appointments scheduled so the guest would be a sudden visitor. Hopefully it wasn’t someone from the Board of Governors who would waste his time with unreasonable requests and complaints. He could use the hidden mirror that would reveal the person behind the door, but sometime Albus liked to be surprised, whether for better or worse.

Kingsley Shacklebolt entered quickly, saying, "Morning Albus."

"Good morning Kingsley!" Albus said with a smile. His luck was continuing to reward him. "What brings you here? Would you like some tea? Sherbet lemon?"

"No thanks, I'm just stopping quickly. Headin' to the Ministry after this," Kingsley said.

Albus gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and Kingsley sat down.

“So what can I do for you?” Ablus asked.

Kingsley frowned and played with a tassel on his robes. “Well Albus, a number of shady figures have been spotted loitering in Diagon Alley over the past few days,” he started.

Albus settled back in his chair, stroking absently on his beard. “I take it you mean a number of people who we know support Voldemort?” he asked.

“Yes, indeed. Several known supporters as well as a few that we’ve suspected but not caught officially,” Kingsley said.

“Interesting,” Albus said. “I haven’t heard anything recently about him planning something big…”

“I haven’t either,” Kingsley shrugged. “But I wanted to update you just in case.”

“Yes, thank you,” Albus murmured. He continued to stare out of the side windows, nodding quietly as Kingsley left for work.

It was a bit worrying that there were so many dangerous people lurking in the Alley, but he couldn’t call for support with such little evidence. The Auror Department would be aware of the situation, but they wouldn’t arrest wizards just because of their political alliances. Tom’s known activities were mostly legal, and they didn’t have official proof of his illegal maneuverings. He was covering his tracks well. Most people didn’t even suspect that a Dark Lord lived in their midst, and Tom didn’t admit it unless he knew all witnesses and controlled the situation completely.

Albus sighed quietly and stood from his desk. He walked over to Fawkes’s perch and stroked the bird’s plumage gently. It was a situation that needed to be observed carefully.

“Maybe I’ll take a short visit to the Alley today,” he murmured to Fawkes. The bird trilled at him and nuzzled his hand. Albus nodded.

 

* * *

 

Harry paced along the one free wall of the room. Even with magic helping them enlarge the space, it was still very cramped with the two twin beds and cooking appliances. The rest of the floor space was taken up by boxes that overflowed with all their furniture and items from the wand workroom. Footsteps coming up the stairs paused just outside the door, then he heard the murmured unlocking spell that only he and his father knew. The older man slipped into the room, coming up short as he suddenly faced his son.

“Would you calm down? Pacing won’t help anything,” he grumbled. Harry didn’t like his father’s voice, which sounded different due to the translation spell they was under. And he thought the English words were clumsy and thick compared to their normal smooth German. But he didn’t complain about it - his father had gotten tired of his whining on the first day.

Harry shrugged and waited for the man to reach his bed before continuing to walk along the wall. He knew it wore on his father’s already short nerves, but he had no other way to express his anxiety. He’d always thought that running from Voldemort wouldn’t be worth the trouble and he’d told his father; yet when he’d flown back home to collect the ingredients for the fourth wand he found his father stubbornly packing their things.

And now they were crammed into the cheapest apartment they could find in a muggle neighborhood in England. It was dark and damp, and a mouldy smell was constantly in the air. The cramped space only heightened his paranoia that Voldemort was lurking around a corner somewhere. Just thinking about his fear brought back memories of his confrontation with the man which had taken place two nights ago.

However he had imagined their conversation to go, the reality was far more intense. Voldemort had been threatening and dangerous of course; Harry knew the man had the power to make him suffer with the barest of effort, and it had been luck that had helped him escape. But he hadn’t witnessed the power he’s heard of - he’d seen a demanding man, whose intelligence was still visible through the thick mask of arrogance he constantly wore. He was definitely dangerous, but Harry suspected the man had held back from inflicting pain.

He’d been lulled into security by the man’s appearance and passive attitude; he had talked back to the Dark Lord with confidence and even dismissal! Yet he hadn’t been cursed. It terrified him to think of the revenge the man might pursue. But it also thrilled him. He wanted to know how far he could push the man before he turned to violence to get results. Not that he wanted the pain - he just wanted to play! And a part of him wanted to truly know Voldemort, to know what was behind the title of Dark Lord. Harry blinked quickly, pushing those thoughts away to focus. They were too dangerous, and he couldn’t have his father find out about his wayward thoughts.

“Anyway, I want to go to Ollivander’s today,” he said. “I think we should make our move now while we can - we don’t know when Voldemort will find us, and I’d like to have an answer if he asks about the wand.”

“And I still think it’s a horrible idea - why do you need to ask Ollivander as well? I told you why it didn’t work.” Mykrew retorted. “We’ve escaped him for now, we should continue hiding for as long as we can.”

“But I don’t want to hide forever!” Harry argued. “And I’d like another opinion on it. It’s not that I don’t believe you, but he’s also a respected wandmaker, even if you don’t like him.” He turned and stared at his father, and the silence built up around them until the air in his lungs felt like it would explode outward. But Mykrew gave in, sighing heavily.

“Fine, let’s go this afternoon. We should go now, and then come back and plan our next move.”

Harry nodded silently, then grabbed his coat from his bed. He was disappointed that his father still wanted to run away, but he understood the man’s reasoning. In reality there was no way they could fight against Voldemort head on; the man probably knew more than they could imagine. But Harry knew he couldn’t continue this way - barely two days had passed and already he felt like he was going mad with fear and desperation. Maybe this was Voldemort’s punishment? To live in fear for the rest of his life?

_‘I’ll think about it later,’_   he thought, as they made their way down the stairs and out into the dark alleyway. _‘Just focus on the wand like I always do.’_   He held his father’s arm and the man apparated them away, arriving in a dingy side-street. Harry glanced around and recognized it as Knockturn Alley from his father’s stories.

They were silent as they walked to the mouth of the alley, but his father stopped and grasped his shoulder right before they passed into the main street.

“We should raise our hoods here,” he muttered. His eyes were darting around to take in the people passing ahead of them.

“We’ll look suspicious! No one will hesitate to stop us for questioning!” Harry said.

“No one will stop us,” Mykrew said strongly. “They might be suspicious but they won’t do anything. And if they know what we look like the hood will be good protection.”

Harry didn’t argue, pulling his hood over his head. His father knew more about the Alley than he did, so he would take the older man’s advice. As they walked into the main street he noticed several other people with hoods drawn and relaxed a bit - maybe it wasn’t that suspicious.

As they walked quickly down the street Harry tried to take in all of the shops on both sides. His head was turning quickly under his hood as they passed an apothecary and Quidditch supply shop. He pushed back the bitterness and anger as they left the stores behind; he’d always wanted to play Quidditch but was never allowed because of all of his father’s rules, and now that he was finally close to a store they didn’t have time. Then he remembered why they were in a rush, and the curiosity died inside him.

They passed several more stores that he half-heartedly glanced at, before arriving at a dingy corner shop titled, “Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.”. Pausing outside, Harry glanced over at his father. The older man was frowning harshly and muttering as he stared at the grimy windows. Harry rolled his eyes before taking the lead and entering the store. Neither noticed several hooded figures lingering nearby that left in opposite directions after they entered.

The air inside was slightly stale and everything looked second-hand, but Harry took no notice. The moment he entered he heard the familiar hum of wands, yet the sound was slightly different from those in his workshop. Dazed, he turned to the wall of boxes and stared into space as he listened to the different voices.

“Good afternoon, how might I help you?” a shaky voice asked from the rear of the shop. An old man slowly emerged from the shadows and watched Harry as he moved from box to box. He opened his mouth again when the ring of the bell above the door made him pause. The old man stared at the hooded figure that entered, then frowned when the hood was removed.

“Ah...Gregorovitch,” he said stiffly. “Here to...purchase a wand?”

Mykrew clenched his teeth, but answered calmly. “No thank you Ollivander,” he said. “I wondered if you could take a look at a wand my son made, and give your professional opinion on it’s faults.”

“Your son?” Ollivander repeated disbelievingly.

Mykrew nodded, gesturing towards Harry who was still staring at several boxes. Ollivander huffed then turned away.

“I suppose it’s fine, since the store has been slow today. Come along, young man,” he called to Harry.

“Be there in a moment, this one has an interesting story about the time you almost drowned while bringing it back from Greece….” he answered distractedly.

Ollivander paused with raised eyebrows, but moved towards the door at the back of the shop with Mykrew behind him.

“Yes while he’s doing that let’s discuss that article you wrote 2 months ago - the one that criticized the wand I made for Vicktor Krum…” Mykrew said with a forced smile.

The two old men waited by the door, forgetting about Harry as they got into the debate. He paid no attention to their departure and growing argument as he listened to the Olive branch describe the muggle pirates that had captured their boat. Who knew that olive trees had their own version of seasickness? Harry chuckled at the branch’s disgruntled chatter, hearing the bell over the door ring but ignoring it.

There was a slight lull in the argument behind him that he vaguely noticed. But then he was gripped by the shoulders and spun around harshly, becoming light-headed at the speed and breathless from the force that pushed him against the shelves. He opened his mouth to angrily complain but choked on air as he recognized the red eyes staring maliciously into his own. The familiar white wand was pointed at his face, but he could only see the man towering over him.

“We finally meet again, my little thief,” Voldemort said, his voice low and harsh.

Harry gulped fearfully and tried to shrink away, but the boxes on the shelves pressed into his back.

“There’ll be no escape this time,” Voldemort promised darkly and raised his wand, when Ollivander interrupted.

“Mr. Riddle! What a surprise,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t witnessed the threatening behavior.

Voldemort paused, and the wand lowered slightly. He turned to the old man, sneering when he saw Mykrew cringing behind the counter, but switched back to English.

“...Ollivander. Nice to see you. And Gregorovitch...how nice to catch up with wayward friends,” he murmured. Mykrew flinched, but Voldemort continued. “I won’t hold you up, Ollivander. These two have something that belongs to me, which I intend to retrieve today, no matter what.”

Ollivander glanced back at Mykrew, then smiled slightly at Voldemort. “Ah I see. Well young Mr. Gregorovitch was just stopping by to receive my advice I believe. We’ll just get through that quickly and you all can leave together. Why don’t you join the three of us in the back?”

Harry saw the tick start above Voldemort’s left eyebrow, but the man glanced at him darkly and stepped away. His hand was still tightly gripping Harry’s shoulder, allowing for no chance of escape.

“Fine, I’ll join your little gathering,” he drawled. “Shall we?” he asked and steered Harry roughly towards the back door.

“Wait! I-” Harry started, resisting the pull. The others turned towards him, and he swallowed thickly.

“I just want to say goodbye...to the olive branch?” Harry said hesitantly.

“What are you-” Voldemort started angrily, but Ollivander interrupted again.

“What a thoughtful young lad!” he said cheerfully. “So unlike his father. You do that, we’ll just head back there now.”

Voldemort’s mouth snapped shut, and he glared from Harry to Ollivander, who was staring at him quietly.

“Do be quick,” he bit out, shoving Harry away from him. Harry was sure the man’s teeth were grinding as he walked away.

“Come join us when you’re done,” Ollivander called to him, before leading the two tense wizards away.

When they were no longer visible Harry sighed heavily and slid to the floor, curling around his arms around his knees and bowing his head.

_‘This is the worst that could happen…'_   he thought miserably. His hands were still shaking from the residual fear, and he tried to control his breathing. As his breath sped up and his eyes started to moisten, the bell above the door rang again as an old man with a long white beard and bright blue eyes entered the store.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews! FYI, the reviewer wowow has started translating this story into Chinese! How exciting~~ ^.^ Here is the link for it if anyone wants to know! http://tieba.baidu.com/p/2943911941/ I'll also post a link in my profile!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> ' _thoughts_ '
> 
> - _parseltongue_ -

Harry stared at the man who was glancing around the room. He seemed incredibly old, with silver hair and a long beard that reached past his stomach. He wore a bright yellow robe that had silver shooting stars flying across the fabric - Harry winced at the color, but admired the creativity and magic that went into the garment.

Then the man turned to look at him, and Harry was startled by the man’s intense stare. His face was kind, but his eyes - light cornflower blue - were bright and sharp behind his half-moon glasses. They were silent as they examined each other, Harry with growing nervousness and the old man with increasing intensity. Then the tension broke as the man smiled. 

“Hello, young man. Who might you be?” he asked politely.

“Harvey,” he responded carefully.

“Harvey?” The man murmured. The blue eyes continued to study his face, then started to twinkle brightly. 

“Ah, just so,” he said with a smile.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at the man’s response, but brushed it off. “Who are you, sir?” he asked.

The man chuckled. “Oh just an old man running errands,” he said.

Harry frowned at the non-answer but decided the man seemed harmless enough.

“Are you here for a wand?” the man asked politely.

“No, I’m here to have Mr. Ollivander look at a wand I made...I really don’t understand why it doesn’t work,” he muttered. “But I think he’ll be able to help me, even if my father doesn’t like him.”

“I’m sorry, you made a wand?” The man asked with a surprised stare.

“Yeah - I make them all the time. I made my own wand too,” Harry said proudly, pulling the smooth stick from his pocket. The light aspen wood always made him smile, especially the small dark swirling knot on the side close to the base.

“May I?” the old man asked. Harry shrugged and handed it over. The man probably wouldn’t run away with it, and his hair inside it made it simple to sense and summon. The man held it steadily in his hands as he looked at it.

“Amazing!” he exclaimed. “Quite interesting...not what I would have expected, but to each their own, no doubt.”

“Is it really that strange?” Harry asked. To him it was obviously perfect, but he knew everything about it, just as it surely knew more about him than anyone else. “What type of wand do you have?”

“That’s a very personal question, young man.” The old man leveled him with a solemn stare. “Most would not volunteer such information; a wand can reveal certain things about one’s character, things that you might not want a stranger to know.”

Harry looked down from the bright eyes and fiddled with his hands. There was a brief silence, and he thought he heard footsteps coming from the back room. The old man spoke up again and caught his attention.

“Take this wand for example,” he said, pulling a long stick from his sleeve. It was unlike any wand Harry had ever seen, with round honeycomb baubles carved every couple of inches. Harry could hear an eerie faint wail that seemed to seep from the wand, and he shivered slightly.

“While it’s not my original wand, it has over time become important to me. It’s a very particular wand - one that does not work well with others, I’m unhappy to say.”

The old man made no move to hand it to him, so Harry stepped closer to him. As he held up his hand, the wail grew louder until it was ringing in his ears. He briefly touched the wood, feeling the grooved texture, and for an instant a high shriek pierced his mind. Harry gasped and stumbled away from the wand and the old man, tripping over his feet. As he fell he heard the man ask, “Are you alright, my boy?”

Arms came around him and stopped his fall, and he saw Voldemort’s profile from the corner of his eye. The man glanced at him quickly, taking in his appearance and expression, and turned towards the old man with a cold glare.

“Dumbledore,” Voldemort sneered. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but why lie? What did you do to him?”

Harry figured he must have looked awful, or at least as shocked as he felt. He didn’t know what to think, but tried to push the moment away to examine later. He gathered his composure - he wanted to watch the interaction between these two, as there seemed to be some history between them. ‘ _Dumbledore as in Albus Dumbledore?_ ’ he thought with surprise. He’d never seen the famed Hogwarts headmaster, though his father spoke of him occasionally.

“Tom,” Albus said slowly. “Do you know this man?” he asked Harry while glancing between them. Voldemort caught the glance and let him go quickly.

“Don’t play games, Dumbledore,” Voldemort snarled. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dumbledore said, raising his hands. The wand was nowhere to be seen. Harry glanced at the man’s voluminous sleeves then looked at the man’s face. He seemed to be genuinely concerned, though his eyes were narrowed towards Voldemort.

“You must have, he looked like he was struck dumb,” Voldemort scoffed. They paused, and Harry shifted awkwardly in the tense silence.

“Well since you won’t admit anything, we’ll take our leave. Come,” Voldemort ordered and gestured for Harry to proceed. Harry looked between Voldemort and the old man, reluctant to go. Voldemort’s face started to darken, and Albus spoke up.

“Is he forcing you? Threatening you in some way?” Albus asked quickly.

Harry was silent, yet his inner voice howled with frustration. ‘ _There’s nothing I can do...Father is still back there..._ ’ he thought anxiously.

“I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my business, Dumbledore!” Voldemort said angrily. “Don’t you have an appointment with Ollivander?” he asked Harry stiffly. Harry could see the threat in his eyes, and nodded meekly.

“It’s true, Sir, so I should go,” he said to Dumbledore. “It was nice speaking with you.”

Dumbledore watched him intently, then nodded. “You as well, my boy. Please don’t hesitate to write me if you’d like to speak again.”

Harry nodded, and turned away. He felt Voldemort close behind him and swallowed nervously. Glancing back once, he saw Dumbledore still standing near the entrance, staring after them with a deep frown on his face. And then they reached the door to Ollivander’s workroom and walked through it; he felt like he was walking away from his only chance at safety from Voldemort’s clutches. He didn’t know what was between Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort, but he would be safe with anyone who was against the Dark Lord, right?

‘ _He called him ‘Tom’,_ ’ Harry thought curiously. ‘ _They must have an intense relationship..._ ’

He then took notice of Ollivander’s workroom and wrinkled his nose; it was more gloomy than his workroom back in Germany - there were no windows and there was a heavy musty smell that wouldn’t leave his nose. Comparing the place to home brought on a strong wave of homesickness. He missed those peaceful times, but he was conflicted - would he trade his current life to return to repetitive days in their cottage? His life was definitely more busy now, and he considered it an improvement over sitting inside or in the garden all day. But his father surely thought differently. Harry’s face fell briefly, but he threw a small smile on for his father who was glancing at him worriedly.

“Now that we’re all here - have a seat you two,” Ollivander said brightly, gesturing to the two empty chairs. They were right next to each other, close together in order to fit around the small round table. Harry sat down, his heart beating rapidly as Voldemort’s leg brushed against his.

There was an awkward silence, Mykrew cleared his throat.“Shall we get started?” he asked nervously. He glanced at Voldemort who was sitting across from him, then turned towards Harry.

“Indeed,” Ollivander said. “May see the wand?” Harry pulled the stick from his coat and handed it to the man. “How impressive! A boy your age, crafting wands…” Ollivander murmured.

“What do you mean? The boy didn’t make it, his father did,” Voldemort interrupted boredly. Harry opened his mouth but stopped as his father gripped his thigh tightly.

“W-well you see, my son did make this wand, My Lord,” Mykrew stuttered.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the man, then glanced over to Harry. Harry lifted his chin and met the look with his own, slightly regretting his display when Voldemort’s eyes narrowed further.

“But you made the other wands?” Voldemort asked Mykrew. The man hemmed and hawed, not meeting Voldemort’s eyes.

“I made all of them,” Harry interrupted. Voldemort jerked his head to stare at him. Harry shot him a cool glance then turned to focus on Ollivander, who was looking down the length of the wand.

“How very interesting! Yes, definitely not Mykrew’s work, it’s bold and unorthodox,” he murmured, ignoring Mykrew’s offended expression. “English Elm for the wood?” Harry nodded, and Ollivander’s eyes shined.

“A very interesting choice. And this wand is for Mr. Riddle?” he asked. Again he ignored Voldemort’s dark glare, accepting Harry’s nod.

“It’s funny,” Ollivander mused. “Mr. Riddle’s wand is made of yew - 13 ½” if I remember. Elm wood is very similar, and might have been yours in another lifetime…it can represent peace and happiness, but it can also mean death and negativity…or even revolution and hope for the future…” Ollivander stared unblinkingly at Voldemort, who seemed to be frozen in place.

“I just chose the wood that sounded right,” Harry said, looking between them.

“Indeed! The very instinct of the wandmaker!” Ollivander exclaimed. “Now the core….I can’t quite put my finger on it…”

Harry fought down a blush. “I took some venom from Voldemort’s snake, powdered adze wings - and a strand of his hair…”

The three men were silent, then everyone spoke at once. Ollivander chuckled and removed the pince-nez from his face to wipe them with the corner of his shirt. “Well there’s your problem! Wizarding hair isn’t a proper wand core ingredient.”

Mykrew snorted. “That’s what I said, I don’t see why you had to come here to hear it again,” he grumbled to Harry.

“And when did you get a strand of my hair?” Voldemort snarled.

Harry ignored all of them. “My wand has a strand of my hair in it and it works fine,” he stated firmly, once again pulling the stick from his pocket. Ollivander quieted mid-chuckle.

“...May I?” he asked curiously, holding out his hand. Harry silently handed it over.

“Well...I believe it works because you made it yourself,” Mykrew harrumphed. “You have a particularly intense bond with it, so it makes sense…” he trailed off. Voldemort quirked an eyebrow, his anger apparently overwhelmed by curiosity as he leaned closer to get a better look at the wand.

Ollivander spent several moments silently examining it from different angles, then handed it back with a puzzled frown. “I suppose your father’s theory has some merit,” he admitted grudgingly. “Since you are its maker and owner, yours is the strongest bond. How curious - a strand of human hair as a wand core….”

The table fell silent as they all puzzled over the failed elm wand lying on the table. Harry fidgeted and glanced quickly over to Voldemort, who now had an intensely curious look in his eyes.

“I believe the problem lies either with the strand of hair or the snake venom,” Ollivander said after a while. “The hair because you aren’t the owner and so you don’t know all of it’s properties; or the snake venom because the animal has some physical or magical properties that we’re unaware of.”

“Nagini is a very mysterious snake - even I do not know her entire history, as she was almost an adult when I acquired her,” Voldemort said with a shrug. Harry grit his teeth with frustration but didn’t argue. ‘ _I’m sure that bastard knows more about her than he’s saying,_ ’ he thought angrily.

“Well that’s as much as I can tell you,” Ollivander said, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms over his stomach. Harry sighed glumly but nodded.

“Yes well. Now that we’re done I believe it’s time we depart,” Voldemort said shortly as he stood from the table. He gripped Harry’s arm and hauled him to his feet, shooting Mykrew a dark glare.

“Indeed,” Ollivander agreed as he also stood. “If you gentlemen would be so kind - I have some projects I need to finish today.”

Mykrew hesitated reluctantly, but glanced at his son sadly and moved to Voldemort’s other side.

“Ollivander,” Voldemort acknowledged with a nod. The elder man nodded back, his eyes staring at Harry.

“Please do stop by again,” he said to Harry. “We’ll have the most intriguing conversations about our shared craft.”

Harry nodded, but couldn’t say anything as his body was suddenly squeezed tightly. Voldemort apparated them from the small workshop and all three disappeared with a quick pop. Ollivander stared at the empty spot for several seconds, then turned and quietly shuffled into the store as he heard the bell over the door tinkle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews! This chapter is shorter than the previous ones, and the next chapter will probably be short as well – sorry! I had more hours at work last week, and this week I'm going to be training to take over someone else's job while they're on vacation....even more hours...x.x But hopefully you guys still enjoy the chapter! ^^
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
> _-parseltongue-_

They landed with a slight tremble on the carpeted floors of his public study - Voldemort chose it for meetings in which he needed guests to submit to his power. It was very flashy and intimidating with large dark furniture and blood-red curtains covering the floor to ceiling windows; it wasn’t his personal style, but he had to admit that it gave results. And right now he wanted Gregorovitch and his spawn to understand who exactly was in charge of this meeting. He watched them stumble with an impassive stare then swept around the desk to the throne-like chair behind it. He leaned back in it and stared down his nose at them while he collected his thoughts. ‘ _This changes everything - the boy has been making the wands all along,_ ’ he mused. ‘ _I should make him a follower...he’ll come in handy when I need untraceable wands for certain projects..._ ’

 As he thought of how to approach the two, his vacant stare was causing Harry to shuffle slightly in place. He had yet to offer them seats so they both stood awkwardly, but he paid their unease no mind. He was trying to decide the best tactic to get them securely on his side.

 Finally he sighed and gestured to the space in front of his desk with his wand. Two plain wooden chairs appeared in front of it, and the two slowly took the offered seats. He sighed lightly, before starting on his manipulation.

 “Gregorovitch. Why has your son been making my wands?” he asked. At his tone they both straightened in their seats, and he smirked inwardly.

 “Well, My Lord, my son was better suited to take on your project….and I swore on my magic to never make wands again,” Mykrew said quietly.

 Voldemort lifted an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you tell me you made such a serious vow?” he asked curiously.

 “I-I didn’t want to - disappoint you, My Lord,” Mykrew got out.

 There was a brief silence, and Voldemort hmmed softly. They all knew the man had agreed to avoid torture and death, and Voldemort knew he hadn’t given the man any other option. But he wasn’t going to say that out loud.

 “Well I will say that the wands - Harvey was it? - made were quite impressive, and I’d like to continue on with this goal as it seems that both sides are equally invested in it. You, to say that you’ve made the wand that is stronger than the Elder Wand, and me since I desire your finished product. I think this will only work if both sides are **honest** and respectful of each other,” he finished, sending them both a stern glare. He cackled inside at their cowed expressions and bowed heads - this was almost in the bag and just needed one final push.

 “Of course I’ll endorse Harvey’s work as an up-and-coming wandmaker, if you’re interested in making a name for yourself,” he said casually. He watched from lowered lids as Harvey’s face lit up. ‘ _Gotcha,’_ he thought smugly.

 He watched as the two sent several glances to each other. They seemed to come to a decision when Harvey nodded firmly. “I agree,” he said quietly. “I’d like to continue this project and I think we’ll make more progress if we’re both in agreement.”

 Mykrew was still frowning but Voldemort ignored it, standing and offering his hand to Harvey.

 “I agree. I propose that you both stay here until the project is complete - we’ll then be able to get to know each other which can only help when making a custom wand, yes?” he said smoothly.

 Harvey paused then nodded hesitantly. Voldemort smiled slightly and gestured for them to follow as he led them from his office. “Of course everything you might need will be provided - merely tell me and all efforts will be made to acquire it.” He led them down several halls that twisted and branched off to other areas suddenly - this area was designed to confuse those that were unfamiliar, making them too overwhelmed to plot and scheme. Of course he knew the way, and confidently led them to two bedroom suites in the area.

 “I hope these rooms are appropriate - please let me know if anything’s amiss,” he said. “For tonight I’ll send an elf who will see to your dining needs, and we can meet again tomorrow morning for breakfast and to discuss our next action. I have to get some work done, but you can find me in my office if you have any questions.” He gave them each a short nod, then turned and headed back down the hallway. He didn’t tell them that the hallways magically scrambled every three minutes - they’d find out if they tried to escape or seek him out. And of course the paintings in the hallway would alert him if they left their rooms. He chuckled lowly and headed to his private study.

 ***

 The next morning Voldemort arrived to the semi-formal dining room at five minutes to eight and settled in his place at the head of the table. The room was comfortable to him while still imposing for visitors, with a high vaulted ceiling and a large crystal chandelier. The table sat eight people with enough space around it for a buffet table on one side and a curio cabinet on the other. While they were filled with bizarrely shaped bowls and vases instead of dedicated china, he valued them for their magical properties and twisted history.

 The high-backed chairs all had wide arm-rests, which he leaned against as he waited for his guests. He was excited to see how they would react now that one night had passed. Would they still be meek and obedient or would they have revived some ounce of rebellion? ‘ _Especially Harvey,_ ’ he thought with a smirk,  ‘ _He seems like someone with a strong reckless streak. Either that or a short memory._ ’ They should be arriving shortly - he had assigned Snippy to fetch them and lead them through the Visitor’s Wing to the dining room. Just as he was thinking of them Snippy opened the door and bowed low. “Guest Young Gregorovitch is being here, Master,” she squeaked as Harvey inched past her. Just as the boy was turning to the elf she scampered out of the room and closed the doors; they slammed closed and the boy jumped at the noise.

 Voldemort chuckled lowly, but revealed a polite smile when the boy turned back towards him. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, gesturing for Harvey to join him on his right. The boy nodded with his eyes lowered as he took the offered seat. ‘ _He’s run out of defiance...’_ Voldemort thought gleefully. “Where’s your father? I thought he’d be joining us for breakfast.”

 Harvey glanced over his shoulder and then back to his place setting. “He isn’t feeling well this morning and apologized for his absence, though I think he might not feel - comfortable - eating breakfast with us…” Harvey said hesitantly. With a wider smile Voldemort clapped his hands, signaling the elves to deliver their meal.

 “Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like,” he offered. “While we eat, I thought we’d discuss our plans for the next step in the wand development. Did you think of anything?” He hoped the boy would at least be able to come up with something worthwhile, and that he wasn’t too intimidated.

 Harvey took a deep breath, catching Voldemort’s attention. He set his tea down and leaned towards the young man. “Yes?” Voldemort asked amused.

Harvey looked up and met his eyes directly, surprising him, but the shock continued when he started to rattle off various thoughts and demands.

 “We need to go pick up my things from the room we rented in Knockturn Alley - especially all my wandmaking tools and ingredients, they’re most important and must be handled delicately! In fact some of them can’t be apparated or their magic will change, so you’ll have to set up a portkey for us to transfer them...ah! I also need to find an adequate room in your manor to turn into a temporary workroom...one with plenty of light, but not too much light,” Harvey insisted, continuing, “certain ingredients - especially parts from the mooncalf and niffler - need dark cubbyholes to preserve the essence of the creature….” Harvey finally trailed off, staring into space as he tapped his fork on his bottom lip.

 Voldemort slowly released his own fork from his death grip and laying it gently on the table. He was proud that he didn’t give into his original urge to slam it down, or to throttle the young man for that matter. It seemed the boy wasn’t broken yet - making demands that he probably expected Voldemort to see to personally! ‘ _This boy….’_ Voldemort thought irately while trying to calm down. ‘ _Just bear with it, can’t kill him yet...’_

 “Ah!” Harvey said with a bright look on his face.

 Voldemort held in a sigh. ‘ _Oh no you don’t-!’_ he thought quickly.

 “Also-” Harvey started.

 “Why don’t we work on getting your things from Knockturn Alley -  you can make a list of other things you need and submit it to me,” Voldemort cut in smoothly.

 The boy nodded and started selecting some sliced fruit for his plate, with a bright smile on his face. This time Voldemort did sigh, though he hid it in his teacup when Harvey glanced over at him. ‘ _I’m sure this will be worth it - I’ll have a wandmaker as a servant and something better than the Elder Wand...’_ he convinced himself. Harvey, oblivious, started to hum as he spread some blackberry jam on a slice of toast.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews! I think I've managed to break myself of my anime binge, though I did start an interesting one that I intend to finish... ^^ Hope you enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
>   _-parseltongue-_

Voldemort watched from the doorway as Harvey puttered around the room he’d chosen for his workshop. Finally everything was moved into the room, after days of traveling back and forth to that dingy studio apartment; it turned out even he had to legally acquire portkeys if he didn’t want to draw suspicions…

 The boy had taken a whole day just to choose a room - he’d slowly walked the whole of the manor with an elf trailing him, seemingly more interested in sightseeing and snooping than deciding on a workspace. Several times he’d been summoned by a hysterical house elf because the boy had touched something cursed. After the fifth time, he stayed with the boy and accompanied him, suffering through an endless stream of personal and outrageous questions in the meantime. ‘ _What was he even thinking? The color of my favorite pair of underwear….’_ Voldemort snorted. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed - it just caught him by surprise. The boy hadn’t even flinched at his incredulous stare, but met it straightforwardly as if nothing was amiss. He’d blinked and answered, and the questions had continued.

 ‘ _Somehow I managed not to kill him,’_ Voldemort thought tiredly. He’d held out through the long interrogation, sometimes avoiding certain questions, when Harvey had suddenly announced that he’d found the room. Voldemort hadn’t even known that the boy was paying attention to his surroundings, but it was a rather nice room in retrospect. It was large with large half-moon windows that faced the North-east, on the third floor and almost above his personal office. The boy said it was perfect and had immediately demanded several structural changes - the room now had a slanted skylight in the ceiling along with recessed shelves on opposite walls. He’d had to look up construction spells to complete the list of things, feeling like a mere handyman instead of a Dark Lord at the end of the day.

 Yes he’d been annoyed, but he was helplessly curious as well. Even now the boy intrigued him, which was why he was lurking outside of the workroom. They’d moved all of the boxes into the room yesterday and Harvey had immediately unpacked everything. He’d filled the shelves with hardly a pause, only stopping a couple of times to check the contents of a box or jar before confidently putting them away. And yet now, as Voldemort watched, Harvey was wandering around the room with a jar under his arm, looking around for a spot for it. He’d spent the last ten minutes rearranging jars and boxes one by one. ‘ _He’s just so eccentric,’_ Voldemort mused to himself. ‘ _He definitely fits as that damn augurey, yet he must be incredibly smart to make wands...'_   Harvey had finally found a spot for the jar - one meter away and two shelves down from its original spot! Voldemort resisted pulling on his hair and was about to return to his office when Harvey called out to him.

 “What are you doing out there?” Harvey asked curiously.

 “...I’m trying to understand your method of organization,” Voldemort admitted grudgingly. “Did you not sort it adequately yesterday?”

 “Oh I did, but sometimes things complain about their spots - it’s better to give them attention now or they’ll upset all of their neighbors with their whining,” Harvey answered.

 Voldemort stared at the boy. “They...talk to you?” he asked dubiously. ‘ _Is the boy all there? Or maybe he’s what the muggles call a savant?_ ’ Voldemort wondered.

 “They do - in a way,” Harvey said with a smile. “I know it sounds strange and it’s kind of hard for people to explain?” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “It’s like someone who sleeps most of the time, except sometimes they wake up and tell you things. And then fall asleep again.”

 “Is this something every wandmaker can do?” Voldemort asked. He really didn’t know that much about wandmaking, and he’d never tried to explore it. But maybe this was his chance to learn and possibly master the craft. Depending on how much the boy knew…

 “I think all wandmakers connect to the parts in some way,” Harvey interrupted his thoughts. “My father always said that he could hear light chimes when he paired different pieces that were compatible.”

 “Can one develop these senses?” Voldemort probed. His eyes were focused intently on Harvey who tilted his head to watch him.

 “Of course you could learn the basics about general piece compatibility, there are some rules I guess. I don’t know if you could completely make your own though, or be able to hear them,” Harvey answered frankly.

 Voldemort frowned. ‘ _Was I that obvious with my thoughts?’_ He opened his mouth but Harvey turned away.

 “Would you like to try it? We can see if you have any ability…” Harvey offered. He waved his hand beckoning Voldemort, who glared at the gesture but complied. He walked into the room and circled the empty boxes that were scattered on the left side, coming to a stop at the waist-high table in the middle of the room.  Harvey walked over to the left wall and scanned the boxes before quickly taking one from one of the lower shelves.

 “I’ve been thinking about this combination for a couple of weeks but I haven’t tried it yet - this might be a good example…” Harvey muttered as he brought the box to the table and stood across from Voldemort. “I usually don’t bring the whole box - there’s no need to get them all riled up - but they should be fine.”

 Voldemort took in the boy’s shining eyes and small smile, then looked down as the lid of the box was removed. Inside were several thin branches of mixed length, some even with small blue-green leaves attached.

 “This is Himalayan Cedar - it has a very strong yet subtle presence,” Harvey lectured. “I imagine the owner will be dedicated and influential, even if it’s only in a small way. Possibly someone shy, but who can stand up when they really need to be heard. Someone gentle.”

 Voldemort raised his eyebrows at the small speech and the change in attitude.

 “Can you hear them? They’ve started to wake up, the light is really bright,” Harvey murmured.

 His voice held affection and warmth, surprising Voldemort. ‘ _This must be his true side - the side that’s deeply in tune with magic,’_ he thought. The everyday Harvey seemed scatterbrained and childish, but this was something new. He forced his attention back to the sticks, and tried to pick up something.

 “I don’t hear anything,” he said after waiting several moments.

 Harvey was smiling down at them, but turned to Voldemort with a vague look of surprise on his face.

 “You can’t? Maybe you need to be closer?” he said thoughtfully. He grabbed Voldemort’s hand and held it over the box.

 Voldemort stared at the small hand holding his, the long fingers curled around his palm. He’d noticed that Harvey often invaded his personal space with no fear - usually while asking personal questions about his daily routine. ‘ _Maybe I’m not harsh enough with him?’_ he thought with a slight scowl. ‘ _Or he’s no longer intimidated? But..’_

 “It’s warm,” Voldemort murmured out loud, twitching his fingers in the grasp.

 Harvey glanced at him with raised eyebrows, then returned to the sticks. “Is it? I guess, I’ve never paid attention to how it feels,” he answered.

 Voldemort coughed. “What about the wand core?” he asked, shaking Harvey’s hand away.

 Harvey bent over the box and whispered into it, then chose a branch without a leaf attached. He returned the box to the wall and then crossed to the other side, starting in the middle and examining jars from the top shelf to the bottom.

 “I think a good partner will provide strong support,” Harvey said over his shoulder as he continued to look. “They’re partners, and it’s critically important that this core not be too overpowering - not like dragon heartstring or phoenix feather,” he added with a smile.

“Something wrong with phoenix feather?” Voldemort asked sharply. “I haven’t forgotten that you ate the wand you’re currently mocking.”

 Harvey returned to the table with a jar tucked under one arm, his other hand scratching the back of his head as he smiled sheepishly.

 “I didn’t eat it - I was testing it! At that point I didn’t know what its makeup was and it was the only way for me to examine it….” Harvey babbled. “It’s just an interesting core for you,” he added quietly, staring into Voldemort’s eyes. There was a long silence until he cleared his throat and placed the jar on the table.

 "Anyway, these are severed Crup tails - somewhat hard to get since not many people save the second one after they remove it,” Harvey continued. “But they’re excellent as wand cores,” he insisted at Voldemort’s doubtful look.

 Harvey opened the jar and pinched out a bloody snippet. It was quite gruesome, and if he was anyone else he probably would have felt sick. But he watched with indifference, feeling a small sliver of pleased surprise at Harvey’s similar look of unconcern. Harvey placed the tail in the marble tray on the table and returned the jar to the shelf.

 Voldemort quickly placed his hand over the tray and tried to focus. “I still don’t hear anything,” he grumbled.

 Harvey shrugged carelessly. “Maybe you don’t have any wandmaking ability,” he said bluntly. “Or maybe you need to meditate more - sometimes meditation helps?” He seemed blind to the dark look Voldemort shot him.

 “And now to bind them together,” Harvey announced. He placed the stick in the other marble tray and placed them side by side. Voldemort watched intently as Harvey closed his eyes and held his wand loosely over the trays.

‘ _Is he meditating? Or is he in a trance?’_ Voldemort wondered as he watched. Harvey muttered under his breath as he held still over the trays, continuing the chant even as he occasionally waved his wand in circular patterns.

 Voldemort could sense the magic rising but he had no idea how. It was no spell he’d ever heard, but he knew different cultures had unique methods of doing magic. It was fascinating that the boy could go from impudent to worldly in an instant. He couldn’t look away.

 Suddenly a bright flash blinded him briefly; he looked down at the table and saw that there was one large tray with a lovely amber wand lying inside. Harvey bent close to the tray and examined it before picking it up and twirling it between his fingers.

 “It turned out well,” he said with a smile, offering it to Voldemort. He took the wand and also looked at but he didn’t feel a strong pulse from it.

 “It feels weak,” Voldemort commented, handing it back.

 "It’s not as strong as your wand,” Harvey agreed. “But a wandmaker has to think of everyone - not just the few that are powerful. One day the perfect owner will find this wand.” He went to the boxes close to the door and found an empty box for the new wand.

 “So have you made any progress with my wand?” Voldemort asked, changing the subject. He’d enjoyed the demonstration, but his mind was returning to his own goals.

 “Not yet, I need to prepare more for that,” Harvey said brightly as he settled the wand in the box and gave it a pat. Voldemort held back a sigh - it seemed the childish side of Harvey was back.

 “What else do you need?” he asked as he searched once again for his patience.

 “I need to go collect the wand core - I want to use a manticore stinger - and I need you to come with me,” Harvey answered. “The man I want to visit won’t give it up easily, so maybe you can intimidate him.” He smiled at the shocked look on Voldemort’s face and returned to admiring the new wand.

 ‘ _...This boy might be the death of me...’_ Voldemort thought, letting out a deep sigh.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the reviews! I have to say I really enjoy the reviews that include random questions or comments about the plot - it gives me something to say when I respond, other than just 'thanks >> '. But I love all the reviews, they make my day/morning/night/whenever I see them!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
>   _'thoughts'_
> 
> _-parseltongue-_

Harry darted a glance at Voldemort, then turned back to the new wand. The man probably didn't believe that he'd have to do any work, and was now learning that it wouldn't be free. Harry knew he was being used but he'd be damned if he let Voldemort have his way with no effort.

"Can we meet in about 15 minutes in the front entryway? I just need to gather some supplies from my room," he asked.

Voldemort focused on him again and nodded. "If you insist on this - visit," he paused and continued after Harry nodded firmly, "I'll stop by my office and prepare to depart." With that he apparated out of the room.

Harry clicked his teeth but hurried to put the wand away. He couldn't apparate due to Voldemort's wards so it would take half the time just to get to his room from the workroom. He set a quick pace down the hall and back to his room, but paused in front of his father's suite which was next to his own.

"Father? May I come in?" he asked, knocking gently on the door.

There was no response, but he slowly turned the knob and entered. The front sitting room was empty but Harry continued inside. The suite was identical to his own so the bedroom and bathroom were the only other rooms to check.

Harry walked behind the loveseat to the rear door which led to the bedroom. It was cracked, and he could see his father's profile staring out of the bay window. The man seemed lost in thought as he sat in the window seat

"Father?" he called quietly, slowly pushing open the door.

The man jumped slightly and turned to his son.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked as he came to stand in front of the man sitting in the window seat.

"I miss our home," Mykrew responded. He returned to staring out towards the manicured lawn, and the edge of the forest beyond that.

"I miss home as well," Harry said. "But at least we're still alive and together."

Mykrew nodded but added nothing else. Harry paused and tried to find something else to say in the deepening silence.

"I'm going with Voldemort to see Sal," Harry volunteered.

"How can you go along with his wishes? We're trapped like birds in a gilded cage," Mykrew exclaimed as he turned again to face his son.

"What else can I do?" Harry countered. "If we do nothing we're as good as dead anyway! At least if I make the wand we might get out of this unharmed." Mykrew fell silent.

"You should come to dinner sometime," Harry added after a moment. "Or at least leave the room once in a while - the library is lovely and I'm sure you'd find something new there. Try to make the best of it, yeah?"

His father nodded again and gave a slight smile. Harry smiled back and left the suite, quickly stopping by his own rooms to gather his cloak and journal. He always carried the book with him when he went outside, just in case he had an idea or wanted to remember something. For this trip he wanted to review his notes on Voldemort while he was looking at wand cores; perhaps this time he'd find the perfect match with his notes and the man himself nearby.

He hurried out of the room and down towards the stairs that led to the main entryway. When he arrived Voldemort was already standing by the large marble fireplace, leaning against it while tapping his foot.

"Sorry about that - I stopped by my father's room," Harry said.

Voldemort sighed but nodded. "Where are we going?" he asked asked impatiently.

"We're traveling to a remote village in central Germany - I'll need to be able to get through the wards to apparate us," he said.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "Why don't I apparate us to a city in Germany, and you can lead us to the next location," he offered.

Harry held in a sigh - he had to at least try to get more freedom, even though he knew Voldemort would see through the ruse.

"Hanover would be sufficient, then," Harry answered. With that he stepped closer to Voldemort and took the arm that was offered to him.

He wasn't often this close to the other man, but he always noticed the significant height difference when he was in arm's length; he only reached Voldemort's chest. The man towered towered over him, his height along with his painfully handsome features only added to the intimidation Harry felt. Harry tried to hide it and appeared to be succeeding, but he often wondered what he was even doing, trying to understand someone so powerful. As the clench of apparition came over him, he wondered if he would ever truly know all of the layers that made up the Dark Lord.

They arrived in Hanover, in the main lobby of what seemed to be an upper-class hotel. Harry took in the opulence that surrounded him as well as the smell of fresh flowers and a hint of leather. The room was fairly empty, with a bell-hop levitating the luggage of an older couple as they walked down the hall. The receptionist behind the main counter stared at them in surprise, while the only other person in the lobby - a bored photographer - raised his camera with excitement.

Voldemort pinched his arm and he came back from his daze, apparating away a second after the camera bulb flashed. They appeared a moment later on an empty road on the side of a mountain. Voldemort let go of his arm and rubbed his forehead, sighing.

"You couldn't have apparated any faster? There will most likely be a reporter arriving at the manor tomorrow," he griped.

"Sorry - I wasn't expecting such a location. Do you go there often?" Harry asked curiously. He started walking up the mountain, keeping to the right side of the road.

"I sometimes stay there when I'm traveling through Germany for meetings. It's an adequate establishment," Voldemort answered as he kept pace next to him. "Where are we now?"

"We're near the small town of Lautenthal, which you can just see at the bottom of the mountain," Harry answered. "My supplier likes the peace and isolation of this area, and I guess it's easier to bring illegal goods up here." Voldemort nodded and fell silent as the incline grew steeper.

The road continued upwards but they turned off of it onto a small grassy plateau. There was a partially hidden dirt path that curved around the mountain and into some trees. They could hear sounds of the natural environment more clearly - some birds twittering, and the wind whistling through the leaves of the trees. Harry took a deep breath of the thinning air, focusing and clearing his mind for the upcoming meeting.

At the edge of the trees they reached a strong repelling ward. Passing it revealed a cabin that stood in place of the trees. They made their way to the front door and Harry tapped on it lightly. They weren't waiting long before the door swung open revealing a broad muscular man. He had deep brown eyes and his long black hair was gathered into a simple ponytail.

"...Yes?" he asked gruffly, darting his eyes between Harry and Voldemort.

"Sal!" Harry exclaimed. "It's me, Harvey! C'mon I know you remember me!"

The man paused a bit longer before he started to grin.

"Harvey! How long's it been - two years at least!" he said happily. He pulled Harry into a strong hug, then stepped back a bit, leaving his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"And who's this?" he asked curiously as he stared at Voldemort. Voldemort glared at Sal, but Harry cut in before he could respond harshly.

"Ah sorry - this is Lord Voldemort, a prominent figure in England's political scene. He came with me since he's my new client."

Sal nodded casually to Voldemort, but turned to Harry with a large smile.

"Client?" he asked teasingly. "Don't tell me you've finally started your own wandmaking business!"

"Not really," Harry answered sheepishly. "He's my first client really, I don't have a store yet…"

"If we could come inside, instead of standing on the doorstep like common beggars?" Voldemort cut in coldly.

Harry and Sal stared at Voldemort, before Sal chuckled.

"Where are my manners?" he asked said lightly. "Do come in." He made an extravagant bow, winking at Harry who snorted as he passed. Voldemort silently passed as well, sneering at the dusty cabin. Both side walls were lined with shelves, with a large display counter taking up space in the middle of the room. The only windows were the small squares right next to the door. Overall it appeared shady and unpopular, and Voldemort glanced back at Sal unimpressed. He was ignored as Sal swept past him to catch up to Harry who was examining the shelves lining the left wall.

"So what are we looking for today? Something interesting I hope?" Sal asked Harry, standing close on his right and looking into his face.

"Manticore," Harry responded, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Sal whistled. "I should have known – going all out, are you? More powerful than he looks," he commented about Voldemort, who had come to stand on Harry's other side.

"You'll find out exactly how powerful if you don't show some respect," Voldemort snapped as he leaned around Harry to glare at Sal.

Harry elbowed Sal in the side, and he shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah okay, sorry," he said grudgingly.

Harry rolled his eyes at Sal and turned to Voldemort.

"Ignore him, he doesn't do well with strangers," Harry said. "But he does have an extremely large stock, so he probably has what I need right?" He directed the last bit to Sal, turning to him earnestly.

"Okay, okay, I do! I think they're in the back," Sal said and walked to the door in the back of the main room.

Harry and Voldemort in what felt like awkward silence as Sal searched his back storeroom. Harry glanced over at Voldemort who was still glaring after Sal. He looked away, shifting slightly.

Soon enough Sal came back with four black jars in his arms. He set them on the counter and gestured the other two over.

"Lucky you - I do have some parts in stock," Sal said, grinning at Harry. Harry grinned back and craned over the jars. Voldemort stood stiffly to the side, watching as Sal bent his head close to Harry's.

"Looks like...tongue...heartstring….teeth, and oh - a stinger!" Harry said excitedly.

He picked up the last jar and turned it around and around in his hands, closing his eyes. Voldemort and Sal both watched as Harry fell silent, standing still as stone. After a moment he turned and held the jar up next to Voldemort, who blinked at him confusedly.

"I think this is the right one…"Harry murmured. He glanced from the jar to Voldemort, seeming to not see either. He half turned to glance back at the other jars, but shook his head.

"This one, please," he said, handing the jar to Sal. Sal nodded and took the jars back to the back room. The wait was less this time, and he came back out with a small black bag.

"And now the part we all hate," Sal said with a sigh. He leaned over the counter with his head propped in his palm and placed the bag in front of him.

"You know how rare these parts are - let's just cut the bullshit. If they were on the market they'd go for at least 5000 galleons, so this is especially hard for me since these are questionable materials. I'll give it to you for 2300, since I like you," he said with a wink.

Harry smiled and also leaned forward, but didn't fall for the speech. "Can you do 2000? I know you've sold similar things to my father for that price…" he called Sal's bluff.

"Hell, I didn't think you'd remember those days," Sal said and scratched the back of his head. "Fine, 2000."

Harry beamed and turned expectantly to Voldemort. The man stared back at him with raised eyebrows, but gave in and pulled his coin bag from an inner pocket.

"You deserve only the best right?" Harry convinced. "This is the best, it's worth it!"

Voldemort ignored Harry's words as he reached into the bag linked to his bank account. After five minutes he had a large stack of galleons on the counter. Sal stared for a moment but pulled a scale from behind the counter and weighed the stack.

"Ok, looks like everything's set. Come back to visit again," he said, coming around the counter.

He handed the bag to Harry, who took it happily. "I'll try," Harry said as they all walked to the front door. "I'll be busy for the next little while, so I don't know when it'll happen." He couldn't tell Sal the truth, so it was better to leave it at that.

Back at the doorstep, Harry turned around and gave Sal one last hug.

"Thanks so much," he whispered into Sal's shoulder. Now wasn't the time to get emotional, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed at returning to Voldemort's manor. It seemed like this would be his last time outside those walls, as surely he couldn't come up with another reason to leave.

Sal held him tightly, with one hand on the back of his head. "Bye Harv, take care," Sal said softly. Harry missed the dark glare Voldemort sent to Sal, or Sal's answering smirk; he was taken by surprise when Voldemort pulled him away roughly. He shot both men a questioning look, but only received a smile and a shrug from Sal. Voldemort was already turning away to head back down the dirt path.

"Let's go, I have things to do," the man ordered over his shoulder.

Harry snorted with irritation, but shot a quick wave to Sal before running to catch up to the retreating figure.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone! I have a class with homework now, so I didn't really have time for fanfiction last week... T.T Hopefully this week will be better and I'll get used to all the projects I have going, though homework will probably get harder as the class goes on :S Here's the chapter I was working on before things got busy! I'm sorry I haven't responded to reviews yet, going to try to do all of them tomorrow after I get back to work if I can stay awake...lately I've had to go to sleep so early since I get up between 4:30-6:30am...x.x Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
> _-parseltongue-_

They arrived in the entryway in an awkward silence, with Harry shooting curious glances at Voldemort who was stonefaced. Harry followed him as they headed to Voldemort's private study, breaking the silence as he helped himself to the chaise next to the desk.

"Don't let Sal get to you, he's not always so rude," Harry started hesitantly.

Voldemort quirked an eyebrow as he settled in his chair. His face was neutral now, leaving Harry no clue about his true emotions.

"What makes you think I'm upset?" Voldemort asked. "He's interesting - I assume he's an acquaintance of your father?"

Harry nodded slowly, still unsure of Voldemort's mood. "Four years ago my father finally took me to Sal to buy my own wand cores" Harry remembered. "Sal used to treat me like a child, but now I think he actually considers me a decent wandmaker."

Voldemort snorted but changed the subject.

"So now that you have the core what else do you need to make the next wand?" he asked, leaning back in the office chair. Harry stretched back in the chaise and stared at the ceiling.

"I need to finalize my decision for the wood and decide on any companion cores," Harry said. "I still don't know why the previous one didn't work - maybe there's something strange about Nagini's venom...or maybe your hair…" he trailed off, turning to Voldemort.

"Well I can't help you. As I said before, I don't know much about Nagini's past," Voldemort said dismissively.

' _Well you could ask her,'_  Harry thought frustratedly. But he decided not to push - he wanted to ask other questions and it would go smoother if Voldemort was in a gracious mood.

"Where is Nagini?" Harry added, looking around the office. She wasn't visible, and hadn't been on the chaise when they entered.

"She's probably outside sunbathing," Voldemort commented, shrugging slightly. Harry nodded and fell silent, searching for something else to say.

"Anyway….what's the deal with you and Headmaster Dumbledore?" Harry asked curiously.

"There is no 'deal' between Dumbledore and I," Voldemort said. "He taught Transfiguration when I attended Hogwarts, and we've always disagreed." His voice was calm but his eyes were narrowed in distaste.

"Do you run into him often? You spoke to each other very casually back at Ollivander's," Harry commented.

"He's the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, for another term to my frustration, so I see him at the bi-weekly court meetings and other functions. He's the strongest opponent to the bills my constituency supports," Voldemort replied.

He glared at the seat in front of his desk as if he could see Dumbledore's smiling face in front of him. Harry shifted nervously as he regretted bringing up the topic.

"But that's all there is between us," Voldemort ended. He pulled some parchment from a desk drawer and selected a quill to ink. "If that's all, I need to get some work done today."

' _That can't be the only thing between them,'_  Harry thought as he quietly watched the quill fly across the paper. ' _But I doubt I'll get anything else out of him. He definitely knows how to direct a conversation .'_

Harry's eyes travelled to Voldemort's face, drifting from the strong line of his jaw up along the straight length of his nose, and pausing at his eyebrows. Voldemort was clearly concentrating; Harry could tell from the slight crinkle of his brow, and the way he leaned forward into the desk as if he could reach an answer faster by being closer.

Harry smiled slightly at the man's unconscious movements, his eyes darting up as a strand of Voldemort's hair caught the light. He knew this was someone who used his looks to boost his success, sending charming smiles and glances to public supporters. But right now most of his masks were down as he worked in his home environment, letting Harry see all of the quirks that were hidden from the public.

' _I know he's not telling me everything,'_  Harry thought. ' _But he's been pretty open so far. I can accept that he has some secrets.'_

At that moment Voldemort looked up from the desk, catching Harry's stare.

"Is there something else? Unless you just want to stare at my face for the rest of the evening?" Voldemort asked casually.

Harry's cheeks reddened as he shot from the chaise, tripping slightly as he headed for the door.

"I'll just go then, I have some research to do," he rambled, ignoring Voldemort's smirk as he closed the office door behind him.

Pausing he leaned against the wall, clenching his eyes tightly as he lightly slapped his cheeks.

"How dumb, of course he was still paying attention," Harry whispered to himself. He stood there for a minute trying to force the awkward moment from his mind, then straightened and walked back to his room.

' _I have quite a bit of research to do,'_  Harry thought seriously. ' _Should I use elm again? Ollivander agreed that it was a good choice...but maybe it's too close to his current wand?'_

It was tricky - he wanted the new wand to be customized to fit Voldemort's personality, but he was just so uncertain about the right choice.

' _Probably because I'm less sure about his personality now,_ ' Harry thought with a frown. When he first met Voldemort he was sure the man was just an evil dictator in the making. After spending more than a week in his presence Harry was realizing there was more to him than power and mind games.

"He's still a manipulating bastard," Harry grumbled. "But even he has more than that to him…"

Then there was the other problem of Dumbledore's wand. There was something seriously wrong with it; just thinking about that pained wail made Harry shiver. It had an interesting shape with wood and core that he didn't recognize, which was intriguing since he knew over two hundred different types of wood by feel. It would be hard to research, but he had to at least try. Harry doubted he would see the wand again in person, but he desperately wanted to know more about it.

' _Could I just ask Dumbledore?'_  Harry wondered. ' _It can't be in a letter - Voldemort is probably watching everything we do - but then it comes back to when I'll meet the Headmaster again...'_

Harry made his way to his workshop, muttering under his breath. Going up the stairs he passed Nagini who hissed warningly but soon stopped when he didn't react. He was deep inside his own mind, thinking out possible combinations for Voldemort's new wand, as well as the mystery of the unknown wand.

Several hours later Harry left the library for his room, dragging his feet tiredly as he rubbed at his eyes. He often lost track of time when he became obsessive about a research project; it was now 11:45 at night and he'd completely missed dinner.

' _First I need a shower,'_ Harry thought as he scratched his head, grimacing as a cloud of dust rose from it. ' _Then maybe I'll see about a snack in the kitchen. I'm surprised Voldemort never sent an elf to come get me….'_

After a quick shower Harry dressed in his pajama pants and a sweater and walked to the kitchen. The manor was completely quiet, providing him the peace to think over everything he'd learned.

For Voldemort's wand he now had three wood options, though he was still lingering with the elm. He was considering walnut wood due to the ties to the god Jupiter, but laurel tree wood was also another strong choice with it's connection to success and power.

' _Every time I think I understand him I learn something new,'_  Harry thought with exasperation. The decision was becoming more important to him as the project continued - he wanted it to be a wand Voldemort would use for the rest of his life, choosing Harry's wand even over the original yew wand from Ollivander. The thought of the yew wand dampened his spirits a bit and he frowned down the dark hall.

' _It's silly to compete with Ollivander, he's a master. And I've barely even started,_ ' Harry thought glumly.

He paused to look out of one of the floor-length windows to the dark gardens that were at the back of the manor. They were bright under the moonlight, the emptiness highlighted and making them otherworldly and mysterious.

"Speaking of mysterious," Harry groused as he turned to continue towards the kitchen, thinking of his other research project. He'd made no progress so far and it intrigued him just as it frustrate him. It was especially hard because the wand was so intricately carved, making the wood type hard to pinpoint from pictures alone.

Finally reaching the kitchen Harry puzzled over the challenge as he rummaged through the cupboards for something to eat. He decided on some brie on crackers and some warm tea, as he didn't want to eat too heavily before sleeping. He started some water on the stove and sat at the island, spreading the cheese over the crackers. He didn't hear the light footsteps of someone else entering the kitchen, and was startled when Voldemort sat down in the chair across from him. Harry stared at the man who casually took a cracker and some of the brie.

"Hey!" Harry said, put out, when Voldemort flicked his wand at the water on the stove and transferred it to two mugs. Another flick and the water was boiling and tea bags were added.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, smirking at Harry's frown. "Magic exists for a reason," he commented.

"I know that," Harry argued, "But I like the slower method - I can take my time thinking and the tea tastes better. Not artificial like this," he gestured as he dunked the tea bag disdainfully.

"You can't actually taste a difference," Voldemort scoffed.

"I can," Harry said. "I can taste the magic! But it's here now so I'll just drink it."

He quietly added a bit of sugar and milk to the cup, ignoring Voldemort's frown as he tasted the tea from his spoon and hummed. Taking a larger sip from the cup, he sputtered as he noticed Voldemort's clothing.

"You- what are you wearing?!" he asked, his eyes trailed over Voldemort's chest before he forced them to the tea cup in his hands.

"My sleep attire?" Voldemort answered as he glanced down at himself.

"B-but that's not a robe! Where are the sleeves? And why is it gaping open?" Harry stammered.

A slow smile appeared on Voldemort's face. He leaned forward to prop his head in his hand, and the the tie holding the robe closed slipped open even more, revealing the dark blue silk pants.

"I wore it in case I got cold on my trip down here," Voldemort murmured. Harry could feel his eyes, but he studiously avoided them as he stirred his tea.

"Is that so? It just surprised me," Harry said awkwardly.

"Ah, you must be thinking of the nightware you saw while you were creeping in my bedroom as I slept," Voldemort said, calmly taking a sip of tea. "However, I have many more night outfits that you didn't see while you were lurking."

"I was not lurking!" Harry said, both embarrassed and angry. His head shot up as he glared at Voldemort, but quickly looked back down when his eyes started to drift along the man's arms. Voldemort chuckled.

"If you say so," Voldemort conceded. "You were leaning over my bed watching me sleep - did you enjoy what you saw?"

Harry's head dropped to the table with a loud thunk, rattling the plate that held the crackers and brie. He could hear Voldemort laughing again, but he couldn't focus on anything other than the strong burn he felt in his face. He was so embarrassed, and regretted coming down here in the first place.

' _I should have just gone to sleep,'_  Harry thought with chagrin, as Voldemort continued to smirk. Neither noticed Mykrew watching them from the shadow of the kitchen door, with a heavy frown on his face.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter! It's getting harder for me to write since I'm even more unsure about how to finish this story. I'm impatient to finish and have a good ending, but I'm not sure how to get there so I end up not writing anything...and then there's all the unanswered questions and the tension between Voldemort and Harry that I want but don't know how to write...but I'll keep going! Somehow it'll get there. Thanks for all the reviews! They've been great, and make me feel positive when I'm uploading the next chapter! ~(^.^)~
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything related to the Harry Potter universe.
> 
> "speech"
> 
> _'thoughts'_
> 
> _-parseltongue-_

Voldemort snickered once more as he watched Harvey’s beet-red face. He normally would find this type of embarrassment annoying, too innocent in comparison to all of his own experiences. Yet this was endearing. And now he was remembering the lust he felt when he first saw Harvey hovering over his bed.

He realized that attraction had been buried for the past two weeks, while he experienced Harvey’s quicksilver personality and impressive wand-making abilities. But just now it was surging up again, bringing memories of desire for Harvey. Desire for the youthful body seated across from him, and the urge to explore it and reveal its secrets. It surprised him to discover he still wanted this, even after two weeks of irritation at the boy’s demanding behavior.

Silence fell over them as they sipped their tea, Harvey finally recovering to get comfortable at the table. He was slumped over his mug, picking at a long strand of hair that had escaped his high ponytail. Voldemort’s eyes followed the fingers as they carefully plucked at the length twisted between them. Remembering his attraction for the young man suddenly made him hyper-aware of Harvey. It was as if he could sense each shift, like he was directly connected to every minute movement. Voldemort blinked slowly, his eyes narrowing to watch Harvey’s tongue swipe at the tea on his upper lip. Realizing what he was doing, he cleared his throat and stood from the table.

“Leaving already?” Harvey asked, tilting his head. “You haven’t finished your tea.”

Voldemort smirked and leaned forward, shrugging his shoulders slightly so that his robe fell open even more. He smugly watched Harvey’s eyes dilate as they traced over his well-formed chest.

‘ _Good, this attraction is at least returned,'_ Voldemort thought with satisfaction.

“Will you miss me?” he teased, smiling at Harvey’s immediate blush. “It’s not that long till morning, we should get some sleep. Good night.”

Harvey nodded and smiled back shyly. Voldemort headed to his room with the remainder of his tea in hand - he would probably be up long enough to finish the cup. In reality he didn’t plan on going to sleep soon; he had several more bill drafts he wanted to make progress on. But he had to distance himself from Harvey at the moment, so that he could plan out how he would seduce him into his bed. And he had to think about the ramifications: did he want this to last for a while, or would it be only for one night? And how would this affect Harvey’s progress with his wand? Or his attitude towards Voldemort after the wand was completed - would he be more agreeable to working for Voldemort long-term if he was hoping for more?

These were all things he had to contemplate, which he would do in the back of his mind while completing his work. Either way he would be satisfied - with a quick shag or with a long affair. Voldemort’s smile turned wolfish as he continued to his room, his mind turning with possibilities.

* * *

The next morning Voldemort woke feeling energized and excited to speak with Harvey again. Last night he had decided that he would go for a more immediate goal: catching Harvey in his seductive spell as soon as possible. He’d work on keeping Harvey enthralled if he wanted to continue the affair after their first rendezvous.

With that thought in mind he left his bedroom for the breakfast nook, with a subtle change in his attitude that was noticeable to Nagini. The large snake on the chaise was hissing lightly as she watched him leave, taking in his eager eyes and confident stride.

Voldemort was the first to reach the dining area, and chose his customary seat at the head of the medium-sized table. He chose coffee over tea this time, and was stirring in sugar when the doors opened again. Harvey’s face was pulled into a squint as he covered his yawning mouth, but his pace was steady towards his usual chair on Voldemort’s left. He took this moment to admire Harvey’s languid walk and the way the boy gracefully settled into his chair.

“Good morning,” Harvey said sleepily as he reached for the tea.

“Indeed,” Voldemort said as he continued stirring. “Maybe you were up too late?” he smirked.

Harvey frowned as light pink dusted his cheeks. “I might have gotten a little carried away with research…” he murmured. “But your library is huge! I’ve never been in a private library aside from my father’s - and his is definitely smaller.”

“Did you ever go to the public library that’s close to your father’s shop in Berlin?” Voldemort asked curiously.

“No, my father said he closed that shop several years before I was born, since Mother always had weak health. I was raised completely in our village,” Harvey answered, his voice soft.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as he took a sip of his coffee. The story of Harvey’s mother and the closed shop in Berlin was slightly strange - something about it felt off to him. From what he knew of Mykrew and what he’d heard from his contacts, the old man had indeed closed the Berlin store suddenly. There had also been several sightings of him throughout the German countryside, but no one had seen a sickly woman accompanying him.

‘ _Surely someone would have seen her at least once?’_ Voldemort wondered. ‘ _Especially if she was pregnant, he would have taken her to various village doctors during their travels...’_

“Ah yes, that village you were living in,” Voldemort said after a moment. “Did you enjoy living there?” he asked.

Harvey took some time to eat a spoonful of his oatmeal before answering.

“I did quite like it,” he responded, “though I didn’t go out that much - I think I’ve only been to the village market three times. I didn’t play with other kids that much either, I was always interested in wand-making so there was no time for games with other children.”

“Really?” Voldemort asked. “So you didn’t have any friends? No one special, no...significant others that you were close to?” He smiled innocently at Harvey’s flustered glare.

“I didn’t have time!” Harvey said. “Wand-making was more important to me.”

“I was just curious if you’d left anyone in the village,” Voldemort said casually. ‘ _This is perfect, he has no attachments to stop him,’_ he thought with anticipation. ‘ _Now I just need to choose a good moment...’_

A cleared throat broke him out of his planning daze. His good mood fell as he saw Mykrew standing at the end of the table, looking between him and Harvey.

"Father!” Harvey said, straightening in his chair. “You finally came - come on, sit down!”

Mykrew nodded, and glanced at the chair on Voldemort’s other side. He hesitated and went for the chair next to Harvey, settling down and preparing a cup of tea.

“Good morning son, My Lord,” he said quietly. Voldemort nodded but stayed quiet as he watched the two interact. His mood continued to plummet as breakfast resumed, noticing a complete change in Harvey’s attitude. The young man was solely focused on his father, barely even looking at Voldemort unless a food dish happened to be in the same direction. Gone were the subtle glances and light blushes; instead all he saw was a son wholly dedicated to his father’s comfort.

Voldemort gripped the handle of his mug tightly as he brought it to his mouth, keeping his face unconcerned whenever Mykrew looked his way. There was no attempt at polite conversation, just the clinking of silverware against plates as they all finished eating.

“If you’re available I’d like to speak with you a moment,” Mykrew said to Harvey, darting his eyes to Voldemort.

“Of course!” Harvey said happily. He hadn’t even glanced at Voldemort, who had nodded when Mykrew looked at him. Voldemort clenched his teeth but made no other moves.

“Well then. My Lord,” Mykrew said awkwardly, giving a short bow. Harvey quickly mimicked him, but was then moving towards the door without hesitation, gesturing animatedly as he started telling his father about his research. Mykrew nodded as he listened, but kept shooting Voldemort small frowns when he thought the man wasn’t listening.

‘ _Suspicious,’_ Voldemort growled mentally. ‘ _What will they talk about?’_

As they left the breakfast room Voldemort quickly Disillusioned himself and quietly followed them, determined to hear at least a little of their conversation.

As he caught up to them further down the hallway he caught the tail end of Harvey’s question.

“....wrong, Father?” Harvey asked.

“I just don’t trust him…I think he’s planning something,” Mykrew muttered worriedly.

“Voldemort?” Harvey asked. “Oh, he’s always planning something, but I don’t think he’s going to harm us.” Harvey smiled slightly, reducing Voldemort’s irritation.

“You can’t see it, you’re too blinded by his good looks,” Mykrew said sharply.

Harvey flushed, muttering, “I’m not! He’s been nice and helpful, and I know he’s been irritated with all my questions but he hasn’t done anything!”

They turned the corner and headed towards the stairway near the front entrance, Voldemort still following and growing more angry with every moment.

“I’m just warning you, son,” Mykrew said in a lowered voice. “A beautiful devil is still a devil - I just want you to be careful.”

“I will,” Harvey said after a moment, his voice subdued as he stared down at the floor.

“Good,” Mykrew said, patting his son on the back. “Now let’s hurry to my room, I don’t like lingering in these hallways.”

They started up the stairs and Voldemort stopped following them. He was too angry to keep up his disguise so he thought it best to retreat now. Breathing deeply, he tried to contain his anger and apparated to his study.

“How dare that little cretin interfere with my plans!” he shouted as he popped into the room, startling Nagini who was still laying on the chaise. He fumed as he threw himself into the chair in front of the fireplace, crossing his legs as he tapped his fingers restlessly against the armrest.

‘ _Maybe I should really teach that man a lesson about keeping his nose out of my business,_ ’ he thought darkly. ‘ _Yes, actually I have quite a few questions for Gregorovitch Senior.'_

And thus Voldemort sat through the morning and well into the afternoon, thinking about how he would punish Mykrew and whether he cared if Harvey found out.

  
  


 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort, obsessed with defeating Dumbledore, conscripts Gregorovitch into making the most powerful wand. Little does he know that the famous wandmaker is retired. Or that the man's son, the brains behind the operation, is really Harry Potter in hiding. Will either be able to fight rising feelings for the enemy? Slash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been exactly two years since I've updated this story... *tears* I'm sorry that there has been such a delay. A lot of things have happened (moving cross-country, new jobs, etc) so this story ended up slipping into the wayside. But I've been working on it (slowly), and I'm going to post the two chapters I have finished so far. Also from now on I'm going to try to post once a month, so the next chapter (after 15) should be up by the end of June. I want to finish this story, and will do my best. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and still reviewed even as years passed - as I work on chapter 16 I'll try to respond to everyone. :) Sorry for the wait, and thanks for sticking around!

That night Voldemort found himself still awake at 11pm and, tired of brooding in his office, he decided to walk down to the back garden. He’d already changed into his sleeping pants but easily grabbed a plush black cashmere sweater to wear instead of his robe. The night air was cool against his face, but he ignored the slight chill, the sweater enough to keep his upper body warm.

 Slowly wandering along the pebbled walkway, the stress gradually slipped away from him as he surveyed his property. His mind flitted from one thought to another, no single idea holding his focus for long; for once he was simply letting them come naturally and float away when his attention wandered.

Stopping near a circle of roses that surrounded a small fountain, he bent down and looked over the plants, checking the underside of the leaves and peering into the center of the blossoms. Light footsteps approached from behind; Voldemort knew after a moment from the gait that it was Harvey who stopped a few feet away.

 “We keep running into each other in the middle of the night,” Harvey commented, coming to stand next to him. 

“What are you doing to those roses?” the boy continued, watching his actions with a frown.

 “Checking for insect infestations,” Voldemort answered. His mind traveled to the overheard conversation but the anger was easy to subdue. ‘ _I’ve yet to decide a course of action - I’ll wait before changing my interactions with the boy,_ ’ he thought to himself.

 Harvey snorted in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to be a flower enthusiast, or that you’d have time.”

 Voldemort shrugged and Harvey raised his eyebrows then went quiet for several seconds. At his silence Voldemort grinned, pleased that he’d thrown the boy off.

 “I don’t usually have time,” Voldemort said a moment later, as he stood and walked to the bench next to the fountain. Harvey eventually followed and took the seat next to him, looking unsure. Voldemort himself was unsure where this conversation was going, but refused to let it show on his face.

 “But I’ve always enjoyed the scent of flowers,” he continued, “It is one of the few simple things I appreciate.” There was no harm in admitting it, though he wouldn’t want it spread far and wide. If anything it would show Harvey that he was still human underneath the Dark Lord mantle.

 “Do you have a favorite flower?” Voldemort prodded; Harvey looked even more surprised at the question, probably that they were still talking about flowers.

 “Erm, I don’t think so?” the boy responded, starting to fiddle with the sleeves of his sweater. He’d changed into a dark blue pullover and some black trousers. The combination emphasized his pale complexion and bright eyes. “I don’t really know the names of the flowers that were around our cottage, and I didn’t really pay attention to them.”

 “My favorite is the Aquilegia caerulea - the Blue Columbine,” Voldemort murmured. With a quick twist of his wrist he conjured a delicate blue and white flower, and held it gently in his hand. “I quite like several other variations in the genus, but this one in particular is stunning.”

 Harvey studied the flower intently, and Voldemort forced his gaze from the lovely face to examine the plant. Something about it fascinated him, from the white petals in the center to the long spurs trailing behind it. As a child he’d thought it was a faerie disguised as a flower, and though he was indifferent to most things now the flower still made him pause.

 “It’s beautiful,” Harvey whispered, raising a hand to touch a blue petal. “It’s like a bird - or a shooting star!”

 “Indeed.” His lips twitched. “It comes in a variety of colors, each combination very striking.”

 He focused his magic, and soon the flower was a white and pale pink, bringing an admiring coo from Harvey. He continued the impromptu display, changing the colors and shape as he went through the variations that he could remember.

 Finally he stopped, realizing that they’d been out there for quite a while - and that Harvey was trying to resist the call to sleep. The boy’s head kept lowering to his chest before jerking up again. Voldemort sighed as he looked over Harvey’s features once more. There was still something about him that was familiar, maybe the shape of his eyes, but the connection escaped him.

 He decided to leave it for another time, and stood from the bench. Harvey startled at the sudden movement and Voldemort smirked, but offered his hand to help him up. The young man's responding blush was just barely visible in the low light.

 "I suppose we should be heading inside," Voldemort said, "I wouldn't want to keep you up late again."

 "You're right, it is late," Harvey agreed. He took Voldemort's hand with a smile and they both moved towards the garden entrance. While walking Voldemort smoothly tucked Harvey’s hand around his arm; the boy’s steps faltered slightly before resuming the pace, and his cheeks regained the light pink that had just started to fade.

 Harvey cleared his throat, then turned his face towards the sky. "I love the night, though there's something about it that seems sad," he said softly. His face was a study of loneliness, perhaps from years spent alone in a cottage with only his father for company. Voldemort tried to ignore the pang in his heart from his own memories of days and nights alone in an orphanage. There had been many lonely days during those early years, spent wondering why no one would talk to him or adopt him, until he had let go of those silly dreams and embraced the darkness within himself.

 "There's more to darkness than loneliness," he answered, looking up at the twinkling stars, unfettered by the light pollution produced by the filthy muggles in the city. "There's power, danger, the unknown....even comfort. Sometimes the darkness is the only place in which one can be free to be themselves."

 He could feel Harvey's eyes on the side of his face and turned to meet the wide stare patiently, falling slightly into the deep green that seemed to travel into his soul.

 Harvey was silent, but after a moment shuffled closer, then carefully laid his head against Voldemort's arm. Voldemort froze only for a second then continued his slow pace. The weight settled firmly against him and he couldn't help but think that maybe it was nice to walk in the garden like this with someone. The image of them walking like this five years from now came into his mind unbidden, and didn't fully leave no matter how hard he tried to force it away.

 Pressed side to side they continued into the mansion until they reached the hallway where their paths separated - Voldemort’s up to his room and Harvey’s down the hall on the right. The darkened hallway, lined with rare hand-woven tapestries and ancient ceramic vases, muffled all sound so all that he could hear was his and Harvey’s breathing. Harvey was looking up at him hesitantly, clearly struggling between speaking or turning away towards his room. Voldemort decided then - why the hell not - to take action.

 He turned to face Harvey and wrapped his arm around the younger man’s back, pulling him close until they were almost pressed together. Then with his other hand he tilted the delicate chin up and, sparing a glance to the widening gem-like eyes, he slowly covered those plump lips with his own. Softly at first, but then he leaned further down, sealing their mouths together forcefully. One kiss seamlessly wove into two, then into several more, and though he could tell Harvey’s inexperience in the awkward movement of his lips the boy did a fair job of keeping up with him. And now that he had Harvey this close he took the time to feel the petal-soft skin of his jaw, and the way the small of his back dipped in right above his buttocks.

 But before he lost control and moved his hand down lower - at what point did he start to forget himself and let his hands wander? - Voldemort slowed the kisses, and then pulled away. It took several moments for Harvey to realize the grip he had on Voldemort’s sweater before he let go quickly. Voldemort chuckled, ignoring the fact that he hadn’t even noticed the boy’s hand on his chest, but didn’t tease further. He left it with a simple ‘Goodnight’ and slowly stepped away from Harvey, then apparated to his room.

 But after reaching his room the vision of Harvey’s face wouldn’t leave him. Voldemort leaned against the heavy wood of the door to his bedroom, a rare display of how overcome he was, and traced the boy’s features with his mind’s eye. The way that the pale neck had arched up as if to follow his retreating mouth, and those thick dark eyelashes fluttering without the boy’s knowledge- it was enough to have him breathing roughly again, and his hand was gently palming his cock through his pants before he realized what he was doing. Instead of being ashamed, as he stilled his hand, Voldemort went with the feeling. He settled in the large reclining chair behind his desk, pausing to wonder if he’d ever actually jerked off in his own office before, before the thought was pushed aside to make room for more important ideas.

 He didn’t hesitate when he pulled down the zip of his trousers and took his swollen prick in hand. He tugged slowly, working the flushed head with a light grasp as he imagined Harvey moaning against him, and he was closer than he thought - soon he was rushing over the edge as his body convulsed with pleasure.

 Voldemort took several deep breaths as the shaking died down and the climax faded, then lazily cleaned himself with a silent charm. ‘I wonder if Harvey will even come to breakfast tomorrow,’ Voldemort thought idly. ‘I wonder if he’s touching himself right now.’

 He suddenly wished he’d set up spying wards that provided images, but a small yawn interrupted his plans to sneak down and look through the walls of Harvey’s room. When another yawn came immediately after the first he stood and headed to his bedroom - even scheming Dark Lords needed sleep. He consoled himself with continuing Harvey’s seduction tomorrow.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort, obsessed with defeating Dumbledore, conscripts Gregorovitch into making the most powerful wand. Little does he know that the famous wandmaker is retired. Or that the man's son, the brains behind the operation, is really Harry Potter in hiding. Will either be able to fight rising feelings for the enemy? Slash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2-Year Delay Anniversary: 2nd chapter! (TT.TT)

Harry buttoned his white shirt and reached for his grey vest, but paused with his hand resting on the fabric. His eyes moved between the vest and the dark green sweater, his hand wavering with his indecision. Suddenly his face flushed and he groaned, as he remembered a similar cashmere sweater and what he’d done to the man wearing it. Several days had passed since The Incident, but Harry still couldn’t forget the passion he’d felt, or the look in Voldemort’s eyes as the man had let him go.

“What was I even thinking,” he moaned, burying his face a random shirt in the closet. Even as he cursed himself, his mind lingered on the feel of the Dark Lord’s sculpted chest and strong arms.

“Gah! Bad Harry!” he scolded himself, shaking his head in the clothes. “Don’t think about it!”

A knock at his bedroom door made him jump, and he hurriedly grabbed the grey vest and pushed his arms into it before leaving his room.

“Are you alright? I thought I heard you talking to someone,” Mykrew said suspiciously, leaning around Harry peer inside the bedroom.

“Just talking to myself,” Harry huffed, running his hand through his hair in a useless attempt to straighten it. He couldn’t help but feel irritated at his father, who had become creepy in his ability to suddenly appear at the most unfortunate moment. Mykrew seemed paranoid, which translated into clingy; several times Harry had been reaching for Voldemort’s hand or tilting his head to lean up for a kiss, only jerk back quickly just before his father entered the room.

There had not been a repeat performance since that first kiss in the dark hallway, much to Harry’s frustration. He knew he wasn’t the only one feeling stifled by Mykrew’s now constant presence, though Harry couldn’t be truly mad. It was better than the depression his father had been suffering from.

Mykrew raised his eyebrows, but smiled slightly, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“At it again eh? Becoming more eccentric with each day,” Mykrew teased, pretending to wipe away happy tears.

“Of course, dear Father, the mark of a promising wandmaker, isn’t it?” Harry joked back. He linked his arms with his father and started them down the hallway towards the dining room.

“Ah, I remember the first time I started muttering to myself at the market, they looked at me oddly that day,” Mykrew said and chuckled.

Harry let him ramble on, listening fondly with one ear as the man continued reminiscing. He'd missed the these light easy times the most, thought he was sure Mykrew’s smile would fade when they entered the dining room. Bracing himself at the doorways for another awkward breakfast, Harry entered the large room only to find it missing a certain Dark Lord.

It was a bit of a let-down for Harry, though he managed to pull a smile forth whenever his father paused in his chewing to look over at him. It just wasn’t the same without Voldemort there next to him, whether he was glaring, smirking, or, rarely, smiling.

After breakfast, Mykrew was less than thrilled that Harry planned to visit the man in question, but Harry insisted. He’d felt he’d waited long enough for his next attempt at a wand, but he thought he’d take Voldemort’s input this time around as to what wood he should use. He chose to ignore Mykrew’s repeated warnings, that letting the wizard chose the wood never panned out as expected.

Stopping just outside of Voldemort’s study, muted sounds of voices reached his ears. Harry paused, nervously wondering if he should interrupt. One voice grew louder and Harry bit his lip, shrinking away slightly. It certainly didn’t sound like a good time to knock.

Suddenly the door opened, cutting off his indecisive thoughts, and Voldemort himself stood in the opened space. If Harry had paid attention he would have noticed the man’s voice in particular drawing nearer. So he stood there, blinking owlishly up at the blank face.

“What is it? I’m a bit busy at the moment.” The door was only open wide enough for half of Voldemort’s body to fit out, as if he didn’t want Harry to see inside.

“I wanted your input on woods, I’d like to get on with another attempt at your wand,” Harry said. He took a chance and ducked his head, trying to peek around Voldemort’s elbow into the room.

Voldemort pulled the door closer to his body in response, his lips pursing as the door jam pinched into his side.

Harry tried to force his lips still, to keep from laughing at the man’s twisted face, but cleared his face quickly at Voldemort’s unimpressed stare.

“Shall I meet you in a couple of hours then, in your studio?” Voldemort asked, a trace of impatience leaking into his voice. “This shouldn’t take much longer but I must get through it.”

“If you’re busy Tom, I’m sure we can reschedule- oh my! Is that Harvey, from Olivander’s wand shop? Come in, my boy!”

Harry finally recognized the voice as Professor Dumbledore, and as Voldemort clenched his teeth and turned to look over his shoulder Harry slipped under his arm and into the room. Dumbledore’s head floated in the fireplace behind the armchairs, and he smiled widely upon seeing Harry appear around the door. Harry didn’t dare look back, certain he’d die from the death glare Voldemort was surely sending; he stepped up to the hearth and sat quickly on the carpet.

“Ah Harvey, so good to see you again, doing well? I’m sure our Tom has been providing the best hospitality. Seeing the sights and all that?” Dumbledore sounded pleasant, but Harry didn’t miss the piercing stare from the Headmaster.

He swallowed stiffly and said, “Of course, Headmaster. I’ve had a lovely time here. I’ve gone out a few times, but nothing too wild.”

“Oh ho! Don’t try to fool me, my boy - I saw the news of your little jaunt to Germany! I was just talking with Tom about it, among other things,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling brightly.

Harry ducked his head to avoid the look, and to hide the wince as Voldemort growled from somewhere behind him.

“Dumbledore,” Voldemort warned. Dumbledore chuckled, as though he thought the Dark Lord was joking. Even Harry, who sometimes ignored the danger he flirted with when he poked at Voldemort, knew when the man was serious.

Then Dumbledore continued on a different vein, though one perhaps even more dangerous, asking, “Oh I have a marvelous idea - Tom why don’t you bring Harry and Mykrew to Hogwarts for a quick visit?”

The silence behind Harry was menacing, though he felt it didn’t come across properly through floo, as Dumbledore hadn’t retracted his question but continued staring brightly at the two of them. Harry risked a quick glance back and saw Voldemort’s face was void of any expression.

“I don’t think that’s wise, Dumbledore. I’m sure you’re busy, and we’re busy here as well.” Vodemort’s words were so clipped Harry could feel the repressed fury in them, a good part of which was probably directed towards Harry for barging into the room in the first place.

“Nonsense, nonsense! All work and no play, as they say,” Dumbledore insisted. “You can just pop over now, I’ll have Severus meet you at the gate, hmm? A quick 15-minute tour, just for a breath of fresh air.”

“Dumbledore-”

“I’m sure both Harvey and Mykrew would love to see the grounds,” Dumbledore interrupted, “They can see the place you called home for seven years, and hear all of your stories.”

No more words came from Voldemort, and somehow Dumbledore took that as agreement. He said, “Well that’s settled, I suppose we’ll see you in a bit!” and then the floo call ended.

Harry sat frozen in front of the fireplace, afraid to breathe or do anything that would interrupt the dark silence that descended now that Dumbledore’s presence had fully faded. He had the irrational hope that if he didn’t move Voldemort wouldn’t notice him; that hope was dashed as a firm hand landed on his shoulder painfully and jerked him to his feet.

“You…” Voldemort started, but stopped himself with a deep breath. His eyes were closed and his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose, but Harry knew he still had one hundred percent of the man’s attention. He couldn’t help but notice the form-fitting shirt and tight charcoal slacks the man wore, cut in simple yet elegant styles that clearly revealed his toned physique. If Harry wasn’t so terrified for his life, he might have tried to make a move. They  _ were _ finally alone. So alone Voldemort could hide his dead body with no witnesses.

“Fine. We shall go to visit Hogwarts, now that Dumbledore is  _ expecting  _ us. And will likely send Aurors to ‘check up’ if we don’t appear,” Voldemort said. His eyes opened and the chilling red glare pinned Harry in place most efficiently. “But you will stay within my sight...or else. You don’t want me to carry out this threat.”

Harry nodded frantically, and a moment later the harsh grip on his shoulder eased off, to his immediate relief.

“Go fetch your father and meet me in the entry hall. Do not. Keep me waiting.”

Harry went, one step below a full out run, and didn’t stop until he was several corridors away from the study. He took a small moment to lean his forehead against the wall and release a shuddering breath, then started at a more moderate pace towards his father’s rooms. He had either just dodged his death, or was one step closer to it, which was hardly reassuring. On the other hand, he’d get to see Hogwarts! The thought had him bouncing down the hallway with renewed excitement, to tell his father the good news. If he didn’t mention the threat from Voldemort, well, that was for the best.

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made it to another chapter! So much for updating at the end of June LOL. But the story continues, and that's what counts. Thank you everyone for the reviews, I enjoy reading them! ^^ Moving swiftly along~

Voldemort started pacing the moment Harvey left the room, his mind repeating one thought above the solutions he tried to put together: why had he agreed at all to this terrible idea? There were so many different ways this could go wrong - and almost all of them resulted in him losing a wandmaker. And he was growing more certain that Dumbledore had an intense interest in Harvey, that surpassed his usual interest in everything Voldemort did.

Voldemort paused mid-step, wondering what the draw was. The suddenness startled Nagini, who had just curled up on the chaise by the fireplace. He ignored her irritated hissing, trying to understand the twisted logic behind the Headmaster’s newest move.

‘ _It's not that he needs a new wand,'_ he thought, ‘ _And surely it's more than his stupid noble morals?_ ’ That could be a strong reason indeed. But no, Voldemort decided, his lip curling into an ugly sneer, Dumbledore didn't lift his hand for every poor soul out of the goodness of his disgusting heart. There was something more to this, something he wasn't seeing.

_‘I'll just have to keep a close eye on them both to discover what new game Dumbledore’s playing.'_

The solution came to him a moment later, and Voldemort apparated to a storage closet on the first floor. The door was locked with a parseltongue password, but with a quick burst of magic he overrode the protection. The small room was full to bursting inside, filled with random artifacts he’d collected over the years, some he'd even created himself. The haul was more impressive than the things one might find in Borgin and Burke’s - it was his very own Room of Hidden Things, he thought with a dark smile.

There was something specific he was searching for now, an unassuming wooden box he found right where he'd last seen it - buried under a pile of books to the right of an Egyptian sarcophagus. He lifted the plain lid and reached for something invisible to his own eyes, though he felt the magic in it as soon as his fingers brushed against it.

He'd created the invisible tracer years ago, back in the thick of the war when he'd needed to track spies and suspects….when he used to hold victims in his dungeons for a time and then release them, only to drag them back just when they thought they’d escaped. Voldemort studied his empty hand and then closed his fist, the invisible round object solid against his palm. Dumbledore would surely expect some kind of tracer, maybe a gaudy bracelet or a small button. _‘Let's see him try to find this_.’

\----

The three of them made an awkward group standing in the entry hall, the silence uncomfortable and slightly tense. Voldemort brushed his hand against the front of his immaculate robes and then figured he'd stalled long enough.

“Let’s get this farce of a trip over with,” he muttered and turned towards the main fireplace.

He snapped his fingers and an elf appeared with the bag of floo-powder. Mykew started forward eagerly, drawing short when he realized that the elf wouldn’t be offering them the back at all. Voldemort smirked at the frustrated dismay growing on the man’s face, and shamelessly smiled wider when Mykew darted a glance his way. As if he would be so gullible to allow ‘guests’ free access to means of escape.

 “And I think Harvey should go first,” Voldemort said, just to goad the man further, even though it was the only logical option from his perspective.

Harvey glanced at his father nervously before stepping forwards, pushing his shoulders back in an adorable show of courage. He wouldn’t meet Voldemort’s eyes directly, which just wouldn't do at all; Voldemort intercepted him to straighten the collar of Harvey’s dark green shirt, happy to see the sudden blush that spread across the young man’s cheeks. Voldemort then moved towards the bird’s nest of dark hair, moving curls and disguising the moment he dropped the lightweight tracker somewhere into the ruffled locks. His task done, he sent another smirk to Mykew and gestured Harvey towards the fireplace, then quickly followed before the old man could insist on being next through the floo.

 His crafty smile died immediately when he came through into the Headmaster’s office to see Dumbledore already present and waiting for them. Though he hadn’t been waiting for all of them, Voldemort realized, as he stepped out of the path of fireplace just before Mykew arrived; no it was just Harvey who received the old geezer’s entire attention, which irritated him more than he thought it would.

 And of course Harvey wasn’t seated patiently waiting, but was moving around the room examining all of the trinkets Dumbledore shamelessly had on display, his face open and admiring and more excited than he’d ever been in Voldemort’s presence.

 “We’ve arrived as promised, old man,” he snapped, taking vicious pleasure in their startled looks. It was as if they’d forgotten everyone else - which incensed him even further. “Let’s get this over with so that I may depart.”

 “Oh Tom, here you are,” Dumbledore said happily, returning a golden statue to the shelf. “I was just telling young Harvey about the time we had Nicolas Flamel in residence, who gave me this marvelous sculpture. He says he made it using alchemy, which is quite an extraordinary claim-”

 “Just like everything else you say, but that’s neither here nor there,” Voldemort cut in. “Shall we start the tour?”

 The interruption didn’t seem to fluster Dumbledore at all. “Quite so,” the old man murmured, “I thought a guided tour would be quite nice to show you around the school, and you can end the day with dinner with us in the Great Hall.”

 Voldemort glanced at the small clock on the shelf behind Dumbledore’s desk. It was barely eleven in the morning. He raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore and said incredulously, “There’s no way a tour could take seven hours. I refuse to be here longer than three.”

 “If you have things to do I fully understand, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your plans,” Dumbledore said delicately, his eyes watching Voldemort intently and following every movement. “You can leave Harvey and Mr. Gregorovitch here, and we’ll be sure to look after them.”

 “A marvelous idea,” Gregorovitch stammered, the worm - he’d probably been waiting for just such an offer. “We’d be happy to wait here, my lord-”

 “No.” Voldemort let the threat grow in his eyes as he stared at Gregorovitch, and then turned to Dumbledore with a clipped smile. “I’m sure I can relax for one day, and participate in this...adventure.”

 “Lovely, lovely,” Dumbledore said easily, sounding pleased - as if that was the outcome he wanted. Voldemort ground his teeth.

 And then tried not scream when he realized that Dumbledore himself would be guiding them through the castle, and the ridiculous chatter would continue. He almost turned around then and left them to it - he was sure the tracking charm would work, and there was no reason he should have to suffer more.

 But before he could turn around and make his excuses Harvey latched onto his arm and he was tugged out of the headmaster’s office and down the stairs.

 ----- 

“We’ve reached the dungeons now, the very foundations of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. He lowered his voice to murmur, “It's said that some of the items in these dungeons came from Slytherin’s castle.”

 Harvey stared at the walls wide-eyed, after he and his father had leaned closer to hear the old man’s spiel. Voldemort snorted loudly, but was ignored.

 “How would anyone know that?” he muttered bitterly. It was just like Dumbledore to subtly remind him again that he still hadn't found the unplottable castle. Even though Voldemort sent agents out every day to follow new leads, on the chance that one might turn out to be true, he'd found nothing yet. And Dumbledore knew it, the bastard.

 “What was that? I didn't hear you, my boy.”

 “Nothing,” he said flatly. Inside he was cursing and shouting, but he still had some restraint left to resist telling Dumbledore how he really felt. Though even his large reserves were dangerously low in the face of Dumbledore's mad twinkling eyes.

They were near the Potions classroom, and were just in time to catch the end of first afternoon class. The door opened and sound grew as children began to flood out, filling the hallway as they tromped back towards the Great Hall. Voldemort moved out of the way of the stream, trying his best to ignore the curious glances from the passing students. There were a few gasps and pale faces from the students who recognized him - an appropriate reaction in his opinion. But he had to restrain himself from snapping at those who lingered, giggling and whispering as they stared.

 Dumbledore led Harvey and Gregorovitch Sr. into the classroom, and Voldemort slowly followed, grimacing at the students still packing up their brewing supplies. Snape was in the middle of yelling at some gangly redhead, but it was clear that he knew he had visitors.

 Snape turned around smoothly and bowed slightly to the Headmaster, his eyes passing over the strangers. Almost anyone else would have missed Snape’s reaction to Harvey - the widening eyes and even paler face - but Voldemort had been watching closely. He filed away the telling gestures and gave Snape a subtle nod, moving closer to the man as Dumbledore introduced Harvey to the redhead and a girl with an uncontrollable bush for hair.

 “Lord Slytherin,” Snape murmured at his approach. “The headmaster didn’t inform me of your visit.”

 “He wouldn’t have,” Voldemort drawled, “as I didn’t know I was coming here myself until the last minute.”

 He immediately regretted the admission, seeing the amusement in Snape’s eyes. Snape raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it, instead turned back to the laughing group. Gryffindors, Voldemort noticed as he looked at them again. How typical.

 “And who is the boy, if I may ask, my lord?”

 “The visitors we spoke of before,” Voldemort said shortly. His eyes followed Harvey, watching the boy nod shyly to the students, his eyes darting around the classroom, then over to him, then to the ingredients.

 Suddenly Voldemort understood Dumbledore’s plan - to sway Harvey to the Light by tempting him with adventure and people who could be his friends. He scowled darkly and stepped forward, only to freeze abruptly as two more distracted students pushed past him and out of the classroom. He clenched his fist, and forced his face to remain calm, aware that Dumbledore was watching his every move even when the old man didn’t appear to be.

 “Sometimes I miss the old days,” he muttered, staring after the ignorant slobs, imagining that for a moment he was as ruthless and unforgiving as he used to be.

 “The purpose of Lord Slytherin is to show the public that dark isn’t evil. You wouldn’t convince the dumbest first year of your intentions if you started throwing the Cruciatus left and right,” Snape said dryly.

 “But that doesn’t mean I can’t reflect on those fond times,” Voldemort answered darkly. “And not all places are so heavily guarded as here. I can...slip...every now and then.”

 Snape stilled at the warning and remained quiet. Voldemort watched until the students disappeared around the corner, then sighed and turned back to Dumbledore’s little group. He’d decided he’d had enough of this insufferable visit - even though there were still four more hours to Dumbledore’s tour - and was ready to drag Harvey back with him if he had to. His eyes searched the people standing around, taking in their troubled expressions, understanding their distress immediately. In that short moment when he had looked away, Harvey had disappeared.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter! Thanks everyone for your reviews, I appreciate them as always. ^.^

The classroom emptied quickly as the adults separated to start searching the school. The two Gryffindors volunteered as well, offering to look in the common student areas. In moments the potions classroom was silent, no one there to witness as one dark shadow separated from the rest, the bird’s black feathers becoming clear as it drifted down from the ceiling. The augurey disappeared in an instant and Harry took its place on one of the student desks, his legs crossed one over the other.

 He waited a moment longer, his head cocked to the side as he strained to listen, then hoped from the desk and strolled to the door. “Now I can really explore,” he muttered, his eyes lighting with excitement.

 Creeping to the door he leaned his ear against the wood. There was no sound - no footsteps, voices, nothing coming from the other side. Harry bit his lip and eased the door open slowly, inch by inch, and slipped out of the room into the hallway. The plan was to head further into the dungeons, and maybe see something interesting.

 “I knew you would show yourself eventually.”

  _‘Shit,’_ he thought, and hoped that he was suddenly hearing things, that Voldemort wasn't standing right behind him. The hope died swiftly when the man’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed painfully. Harry followed the guiding motion and turned around, glancing at narrowed red eyes before looking away.

 “I was just-I just wanted to see something cool...” Harry said shakily. “You know, not part of the official guided tour?”

 “And you didn’t think anyone would be worried about your ‘disappearance’?” Voldemort snapped, “Your father wouldn’t be worried that you’re lost in an unknown setting?”

 “Well I’m not alone, you’re here,” Harry muttered. Then seeing the man’s face darken further he hurried to add, “Not that I’m upset about it! I like your company, really!”

 Voldemort stared him down, and the silence grew more uncomfortable.

 “Regardless, we’re returning to the Headmaster’s office. Now.”

 Harry’s head snapped up, dismay written all over his face. He tried to give his best puppy dog sad face, then resorted to begging when that failed. “But isn’t there anything you’d like to show me now that I’m here? At your alma mater where you probably ruled everything?”

 Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but Harry sensed the man was actually thinking over his words. He continued to push a little further. “Who knows the next time I’ll be able to come here - shouldn’t I see something aside from Dumbledore’s typical Gryffindor tour?”

 Voldemort snorted and said, “You can’t manipulate me, child, I was a master before you were even born.” But his lips pursed, and Harry knew he’d struck a nerve.

 “Fine,” Voldemort sighed, “We can visit one place in particular before returning to the Headmaster. But,” he added, seeing Harry ready to cheer, “We will then depart immediately and go back to the manor.”

 Harry stifled his smile and nodded seriously, while inside he did a jig. “So what are you going to show me - the Forbidden Forest? Or maybe there are actual dungeons here with manacles and whips?”

 Voldemort smirked darkly, his first smile since catching Harry sneaking from the potions classroom, and Harry replayed his words in his mind.

 “If you wanted to see some manacles we could have visited the dungeons at the manor..” Voldemort murmured. “We don't even have to go to the dungeons for whips-just a short walk to my private rooms…”

 Harry tried his best to ignore the idea of whips in Voldemort’s bedroom, his face flushing light pink as he struggled.

 “Let's just go wherever you wanted to take me and get it over with,” he said quickly.

 Voldemort remained quiet, though his lingering smile told Harry that he'd thought of several dirty responses.

 Harry darted a glance to the man and then tried to ignore him, the silence growing more tense as the Dark Lord smiled wider.

 “Argh enough! Let's just go!” Harry puffed his cheeks out as he tugged on Voldemort’s sleeve, and the man let him lead for a few feet, before pointing out that they were going in the wrong direction.

 Harry tried not to look at Voldemort after that, focusing on the moving paintings and the antics of the suits of armor that they passed. His face still felt flushed, though that was now partially due to one painting they passed, featuring a group of ladies and a lot of missing clothing. They came up to the first floor and Harry, seeing the Great Hall doors again, turned to Voldemort with a pout.

 “I thought we were going somewhere interesting?”

 Voldemort hummed, though his eyes were shining with mischief. Harry stared at the rare expression and dazedly let himself be tugged up more stairs, until they reached a hallway he hadn’t noticed earlier.

 “Is this a bathroom?” Harry asked in a pointed tone, his voice alone enough to convey his disgust. The floors were covered in a thick layer of grime, and there was a lingering odor that even made it past his hastily erected bubble-head charm.

 Voldemort ignored his complaints and walked towards the sinks, which looked crusted over and broken. Harry glanced away, his stomach turning a little, and caught quick movement from inside one of the stalls.

 He walked to the door and pushed it open, his gasp echoed by the ghost inside the cubicle, who then faded through the toilet.

 Harry waited until the ghost slowly floated back into view. “Who are you? I haven't seen you before,” it asked, “Would you like to share my toilet?”

 Harry grimaced and tried to come up with a diplomatic response. Soft hissing grew in volume behind him- the ghost shrieked and fled back into the toilet as quickly as she had appeared.

 Harry snapped around and backed against the stall door. Where the sinks had been before there was now a giant hole, a sudden pit of darkness yawning up from the floor. And Voldemort stood next to it with a smug smile on his face that didn't bode well at all - Harry almost wished he could follow the ghost into the dingy porcelain bowl.

 “Shall we?” Voldemort asked.

 “I'm sorry, I thought you suggested that we're going down there,” Harry said, sending Voldemort his most defiant glare.

 Voldemort smirked. “It wasn't a suggestion.” And then seeing Harry continue to stall he added, “You asked for excitement, didn't you?” His voice indicated he was quickly losing patience, and that Harry would not like whatever came next.

 Feeling trapped and regretting his earlier bravery, Harry stepped up to the hole and stared down into the darkness. He could see the vague outline of stairs receding down - a small comfort that barely dented his growing panic.

 Harry started down and Voldemort followed behind him. After a few steps Voldemort hissed again and the hole closed up; it was pitch black all around them.

 “Why did you do that?! What if I fall to my death!” Harry demanded. He reached back frantically until he ran into Voldemort’s arm and then latched onto it.

 Voldemort gave a heavy sigh and a moment later a ball of light appeared in his hand, then rose to bob above their heads gently.

 “Are you a wizard or not?” Voldemort asked, raising an eyebrow.

 “Well I still could have fallen…” Harry muttered.

 “Just walk,” Voldemort said tiredly.

 Harry ignored the prickle of embarrassment, his attention turning to the constant slope downwards. The walls were intricately carved, and the air began to gather the distinct scent of animal.

 “From your hissing and all the snakes I'd assume this has something to do with Salazar Slytherin?” Harry murmured.

 “Very good, child, you're finally starting to use your brain,” Voldemort answered dryly.

 “Would these be his private rooms?” Harry continued, “But no, why would he have his rooms all the way down here? Away from everyone else?” He started to get a bad feeling the further down they went. Then the stairs ended and the path opened into a dark corridor, and the foreboding grew even stronger.

 Each step made a crunching noise, a light crackling that he only recognized as the bones of small rodents from the partially decomposed tails.

 “Come over here, Harvey,” Voldemort called. “You don’t want to miss this.” His voice was soft, yet filled with dark promise. Harry met his eyes briefly before looking away, uncomfortable at the unknown emotion he could see growing in them, something that made the red irises glint in the dim ambient light.

 He followed the order, though every part of him wanted to run back to the stairs. In front of them was a large medallion mounted on the wall, covered in stone snakes that turned to watch them. This time Harry got a clear view of Voldemort as he hissed, and Harry could have sworn he saw a serpentine tongue for one brief instant.

 The snakes in the medallion began to squirm; gears hidden in the rock turned and pushed the medallion away from the wall, just as Harry released his wand from his arm holster and rolled it in his hand. Apprehension pulsed inside him, along with a small sliver of excitement that he couldn't deny.

 On the other side was a wide open chamber that overshadowed the the previous hallway in every way. Grand pillars lined the main promenade, leading to a majestic carving of a man's face, which towered hundreds of feet above the floor.

 “Salazar Slytherin’s chamber of secrets,” Voldemort said with a nod towards the statue, his eyes quickly scanning the space. “As the only descendant left it belongs to me now…”

 Harry walked forward slowly, giving up all presences of calm. In one corner of the chamber lay a giant pile of snake skin, papery thin and translucent. And at least over 50 feet long. The hairs on his arms and neck rose, and his heart began a frantic pace.

 It was almost a relief when the sound of something heavy came, like something dragging on the ground. It started behind them and moved closer, its scales sliding roughly against the stone. Harry went through a list of huge snakes in his mind, and the results weren't positive. A dark green - nearly black - coil of scales came into his line of sight. He took in the color pattern and scale shape just as the snake gained speed. It lunged towards him and he raised his wand, Voldemort’s hand in front of his face the last thing he saw before his eyes closed. _Fuck, why a basilisk?_

 “Lumos maxima!” Harry cast, hopping backwards into what he hoped was a clear space. His hair rustled with the breeze the snake made as it lunged, barely missing him. It hissed loudly at the light and thrashed away, it's length making the ground tremble.

 Voldemort cursed, his magic swelling over them to dim the light. “There was no need for all that,” he said grumpily, “Belinda was just going to coil around you.”

 “Well I’d rather she didn't, if it's all the same to you,” Harry said. His eyes were still closed as he strained his ears to hear any nearby movement.

 “Shall I have it chase you? Running is an excellent form of exercise.”

 “Basilisk parts make great ingredients - for wands, potions….I could display a basilisk fang in my room.” Harry murmured.

 He could feel the temperature drop, as Voldemort said quietly, “You wouldn't dare.”

 Harry shrugged, searching for one last scrap of bravado. “We could find out - maybe a nice basilisk skin rug will add that _je ne sais quoi_ to the sitting room.”

 “I'll skin _you-”_ Voldemort said darkly, but stopped suddenly at the bright flash of light, that Harry could see through his eyelids.

 “....Dumbledore’s pet has found us.” The man’s voice was bland and even, but Harry had a feeling frustration and rage were lurking just beneath Voldemort's facade.

 He took a chance and cracked an eye open; seeing no movement Harry raised his eyes slowly until he saw the shining bird hovering above them, it's tail trailing small sparks of fire. The basilisk had already started its retreat towards a pipe hole Harry had overlooked.

 Voldemort watched it go with a scowl, then huffed when he saw Harry's curious glance. “Slight miscalculations in my youth. Suffice to say Belinda is now extremely wary of Fawkes,” he said.

 “Fawkes?” Harry said, assuming it was the bird, and automatically extended his arm so that the phoenix could land. Fawkes trilled softly and nuzzled his ear, then began preening his hair.

 "Wait you damn bird,” Voldemort said quickly, reaching out, but Fawkes ignored him and continued, pausing to pull something out of Harry’s hair and swallow it before continuing his grooming.

 “Gross, did I have pipe gunk in my hair?” Harry asked, twisting his lips. “You should clean this chamber out more often if you're so proud of it.”

 “Let's go,” Voldemort said. He had a tick going in his cheek, but Harry figured he was safe enough to push further with Fawkes there.

 “And another thing-” Harry started. His voice faded from the Chamber abruptly, as Fawkes teleported them back to the Headmaster’s office in a burst of bright flames.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks for waiting! I've been distracted by family visits the past two months, sorry for the delay. We're in that prime holiday season now and Nanowrimo time(!!!), so we'll just have to see how it goes and when the next chapter will be ready LOL. I'll try for the end of November but idk man. Anyway, thank you everyone for reviews, I'll try to respond during the month. On to the chapter!

- _In the Headmaster's office, directly after Harry's disappearance._ -

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his hands steepled in front of his face in an attempt to hide his growing worry. The two Gryffindors and Severus had just left, leaving Dumbledore and Gregorovitch alone in the office.

“Did you have any luck finding him?” Dumbledore asked. 

Standing in front of one of the bookcases that lined the walls, Mykew turned and shook his head. “I'm sure Harry’s fine, probably got it in his mind to go explore.” He returned a framed photo to its shelf and walked to the desk, anxiety building within him with each step. “That’s not important right now - more importantly, how are we going to get Harry away from that monster?”

Around them the various portraits of past headmasters muttered their agreement from their portraits.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, his eyes distantly tracing the figures in the photo frame. “You haven’t been able to find any unwatched exits at Tom’s manor?” he asked. 

“There are none!” Mykew answered, his voice raising. “And the Dark Lord keeps a close watch on Harry - he knows I would never leave the boy behind and run on my own…”

“You could do that - that would leave us only one person to rescue,” Dumbledore said.

“Oh not this again, I’ve already said no to this,” Mykew said, cheeks flushed deep red.

“I’m merely pointing out a viable option, that just might save our young Mr. Potter.”

 “He’s my son!” Mykew slammed his fist on the desk, and the loud crack was followed by a moment of silence. “He may be Mr. Potter to you, hell - to everyone else maybe - but he’s my son!” Mykew continued.

“I raised him, and I’m starting to wonder if you care about him other than as a potential soldier in your never-ending war with the Dark Lord!” 

“Never question the depths of my concern for Harry!” Dumbledore said, standing quickly from his chair. He glared across it at Mykew and the air crackled around him with magic, making his clothes rustle lightly. “We could be saving Harry from Voldemort now - it would be easy to secret you away now, and if we could find Harry before Voldemort we could get him to safety too!” His statement was met with stunned silence from Mykew and the portraits, some pressing their faces against the frame to watch the argument avidly. 

Mykew was slackjawed at Dumbledore’s outburst, his eyes slowly widening as he understood what Dumbledore was saying. “Damn that boy - and we have no idea where he is!”

“That’s just the thing,” Dumbledore said. He seemed to deflate as he settled back into his chair, the anger leaving him in a steady rush until he’d returned to his calm appearance again - though his face had gained several solemn lines around his mouth. “We’ve looked everywhere we were able, which means he must be somewhere we’ve yet to check.” 

Dumbledore paused to stroke his beard several times.

“And?” Mykew asked impatiently. “Where would that be? You said we looked everywhere!”

“Not everywhere, merely everywhere we were able….” Dumbledore’s face grew more troubled. “It’s highly likely Tom took him to the Chamber of Secrets, which only he can open as the last living parselmouth.” 

The office was silent as they both absorbed the words, Mykew with growing horror on his face. “S-so what do we do now?” he asked, running a trembling hand through his grey hair.

“We wait for them to return,” Dumbledore said tiredly, having come to that conclusion long before the conversation even started. “Or we wait for Fawkes to return from wherever he is so that he might teleport there and check. Either way there’s nothing we can do for now - there’s no apparating into the Chamber.”

Mykew dropped into one of the plush chairs in front of the desk and buried his face in his hands. “Oh Harry, you foolish child,” he whispered.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “Let us hope that Voldemort doesn’t discover Harry’s identity too soon, while we’re unable to help him.” His eyes returned to the photo on the shelf - of two young men standing together, one with bright blond hair and the other red. The office was plunged into tense silence as they waited, not knowing how long it would take but trying not to think the worst.

\--- 

Back in his workshop in Voldemort’s manor, Harry sat in a window seat overlooking the small courtyard just outside. The sky was beginning to darken with the oncoming of night, the cloudless sky turning away from the pink of sunset to a deeper purple. Nagini was sliding into the grass for her nightly feeding when Harry turned away and returned to his desk.

For once it was clear of clutter, surprising since hours ago it had been covered with papers filled with notes and calculations that had been building up since he started the wand project for Voldemort. Now the only things on the desk were a long deep green wand, and a squishy package wrapped in plain brown paper.

The wand itself was pretty remarkable, if Harry could think about it objectively, but it still made him frown. The latest attempt to satisfy Voldemort was finally complete - a lengthy thirteen inches of laurel wood with powered manticore stinger as the core; Harry’s fingers were still red and blistered in some areas from accidental contact with the powder, a strong irritant that became more toxic with prolonged contact. The crafting had been a grueling process that had turned the laurel wood green as mere happenstance, but it was ultimately a successful endeavor.

Harry could feel the power drifting from it in thin strands that were spreading through the room, almost searching the area. The wand was looking for its master, and there was no chance it would choose Harry - he knew it with absolute certainty. It would only work for someone with the highest ambition, with the drive to do whatever it took to achieve success. The manticore stinger only added more ruthlessness to the mixture; Harry was sure it would be a perfect fit for the Dark Lord.

Still he hesitated over it, dodging one of the thin power strands that was winding back towards him. Surely it was the best wand for Voldemort, and yet the same assurance made him reluctant to hand it over. Every time Harry reached for it he saw himself back down in the Chamber, and Voldemort watching him with menacing eyes.

It was the first time it actually hit him, that he was making a wand for a man who had probably killed hundreds of people without blinking an eye.

The thought was too much to take in, and his mind automatically flinched away. Harry grabbed his hair and pulled tightly, then muttered, “What am I doing?”

Opening his eyes he turned away from the problematic wand to the package next to it, ominous in its plain anonymity. Professor Dumbledore had handed it to him when he and Voldemort had returned to the Headmaster’s office, in a moment when both Mykew and Voldemort were distracted.

“Just between the two of us, eh?” Dumbledore had murmured. The package was shrunk to a miniature square no bigger than a lump of sugar; Harry had taken it and nodded uneasily, noticing the twinkle in the man’s eye just before Voldemort demanded they leave. 

Now the package sat on the desk at its full size, tied with plain twine to match the brown wrapping. As he started unwrapping the paper a short note fell from just inside onto the floor. Harry stooped to grab it and read through it quickly, putting it aside a moment later.

Inside the package was an old-fashioned cloak that felt like velvet under his fingers, seemingly average upon first glance. Harry stretched it out in his hands, then turned it around to the other side. He saw a brief shimmer as the cloth folded over itself, and then it disappeared completely, as if he was holding his hands up in empty air. Harry started, his mind trying to trace the outline of the fabric he knew he was holding, but it was impossible.

_Your father would have wanted you to have this._

Harry swirled the coat over his shoulder as he thought over the words in the note, then picked the paper up again. “If he wanted me to have an invisibility cloak why didn't he just give it to me,” he wondered, his eyes tracing over the curling words.

A clock somewhere down the hall chimed, marking the passing hours. Harry grabbed the laurel wand and shoved it into his back pocket, ignoring the slight sting as the wand protested his touch.

He couldn’t take it anymore, being trapped in the building stuck between Voldemort and his father. One wanted to kiss or kill him; the other loved him but was too afraid to make a stand to save them. He needed to get out. And as he jostled the cloak slightly and saw his arm wink in and out of sight, he suddenly had the perfect method of escape.

Harry pulled the hood of the cloak up and shuffled to the door of the workshop, creeping the last few steps to try to minimize his sound even more. A quick Homenum Revelio through the wood came back clear so he took his chance and eased the door open, silencing himself as an extra precaution.

It took three long empty hallways before he reached the main wing of the manor. Harry slowed down, picking up multiple voices coming from the entry hall that was just ahead. He leaned over the banister and looked down on dozens of people milling about, all dressed in black robes and their faces hidden behind silver masks. His idea of a quick jaunt outside suddenly became more difficult, not to mention dangerous if he was caught. 

“At least Voldemort won’t notice that I’m gone if he’s holding a meeting with his Death Eaters,” Harry muttered, only to press himself frantically against the railing as a door opened behind him and two figures swept out. They passed mere inches from him as they went by.

“How long do you think this meeting will go? He seemed to be in a strange mood these past few days,” one of the men said. 

“How should I know, Avery? One does not presume to _know_ the Dark Lord’s thoughts.” The voice was unmistakable, the same barely contained sneer that he’d heard while visiting Hogwarts - it was Severus Snape. Did Dumbledore know that one of his teachers was a Death Eater? Or was the man a spy, bringing information back to the Headmaster?

Harry relaxed against the railing, then tensed again as Snape stopped suddenly, his eyes slowly scanning the area. Harry felt the sharp gaze pass over him at a crawling space, and it felt like time had stopped. 

Snape took one step back towards the door and then another, his eyes narrowing. Harry couldn't see the man's hands but he was sure one was grasping a wand, hidden in the folds of his robe. Or maybe he could do wandless magic. That wasn’t a cheerful thought at all. 

Snape carefully explored the area in front of the door, and as he got closer Harry wondered how he would escape. If his back wasn't already pressed against the bannister he might have space to edge around the approaching man, but he didn't want to risk trying to move right under Snape’s eyes. Snape would be the one to catch the tiniest flicker of his pant leg and react - and that was not something Harry wanted to chance. So he had no escape.

Just as Snape was in arms distance, with Harry clutching his own wand and frantically thinking of any wordless spell that could help, Avery cleared his throat and snapped, “Will you come on man? There's nothing there for fucks sake!”

Snape straightened abruptly and glared at Avery, but gave in and returned to his side after scanning the area one last time.

“Fine, let's go. The Dark Lord doesn't like being kept waiting,” Snape said. 

Avery sputtered and started to protest his involvement, his voice fading as they descended the stairs. They turned down a hallway with the last remaining Death Eaters, and then the entry hall was silent once more. Harry slumped down onto the floor and took big gasping breaths, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through him. He knew he still had to make it out of the building and off the property, but he felt like he'd already made it past the hardest part - the only thing worse would be running into Voldemort himself. 

Harry cut off that train of thought before fate decided to test him further, and resumed his path down the stairs. He changed his mind at the front door, thinking it would probably be watched in some way, and walked to the small breakfast room instead.

It was a room he rarely entered, since Voldemort held most of the meals in the dining room, but he still knew where it was. And he knew enough about the Death Eaters to know there were too many to fit in the small space, so it would probably be empty.

His memory of the room hadn't failed him, and he pumped his fist in the air at the gold framed French doors that opened onto a small terrace. Harry slipped out and just stood for a moment, reveling in the chill from the night air that he could feel through the cloak. While he’d been evading Snape and creeping through the hallways the hour had grown later, and now stars were twinkling across the sky.

He hopped over the banister that divided the paved terrace from the grounds beyond, then set a steady pace across the lawn. The memory of the last time he’d taken this path, barely one step ahead of Voldemort and on the brink of victorious escape, seemed so long ago now. This time around he had no illusions- Harry’s grin was somewhat self-mocking as he thought of his naïve past self. No, this would not be an escape; just a brief respite before his inevitable return to the Dark Lord’s manor.

Just passing the line of trees that marked the edge of the apparition wards Harry paused, thinking over where his destination should be. He could go back and revisit their old cottage, but it would be empty, and the silence would grate at him. He'd had enough silence for the night. 

That more than anything else solidified his plan, and Harry apparated on the next step with a smile forming. He was sure his host would still be awake and eagerly hurried up the dirt road after shrinking the cloak and stuffing it in his pocket. 

And Sal was still awake, answering his knock swiftly with a blank stare that soon turned suspicious as he watched Harry’s smile grow.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Sal asked once his brain had processed what he was seeing. “And no Dark Lord shadowing your footsteps, glaring at me? Project finally over?”

“Er, not quite?” Harry said, his smile edging towards sheepish. Sal gave him an unimpressed look. “Ok, I snuck out, he doesn’t know I’m here,” he added quickly.

“Oh hell no,” Sal said, “I want no part of the ass-beating you’ll receive when he finds out, and trust me - he will.” He started to close the door but Harry quickly jammed his foot in the way, yelping at the sharp edge digging into his flesh.

Sal gave an irritated grunt but eased away from the door, holding it slightly open. “Listen Harry, I have your back through almost anything. But I draw the line at death. Death and torture from the Dark Lord especially.” 

Harry didn't fall for the trick - he knew Sal would slam the door as soon as he was out of the way. So his foot remained in the jam, and he tried to wedge his body further through the crack. “I think torture would come before death,” he added cheekily.

Sal glared at him and held the door firmly, easily negating the force of Harry's push. Harry sighed and stepped back, the open tiredness on his face enough to make the other man pause.

“Come on, Sal, just this once? I just need a night to relax. To not be trapped in this web with dad, Voldemort, and Dumbledore all around me.”

“Don't say his name,” Sal scolded, his eyes darting around the open hill past his house.

Harry waited, just stood there until Sal couldn't avoid looking at him anymore. The older man gave a resigned sigh and opened the door to let him. 

“Don't give me that look, kitten. How could I deny that face,” he joked weakly.

“I told you not to call me that,” Harry said, a small smile flickering across his face as he stepped through the doorway and into the store. The small mounted lamps barely illuminated the large room, casting deep shadows into the corners.

“Not quite, I believe your exact words ended with ‘not in front of my father’,” Sal said as he closed the door, his smirk widening at Harry's expression.

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “Whatever, you lazy bum. Now where’s your butterbeer stash?”

“Ah Harry, you’re still such a child. Wait until you taste firewhiskey,” Sal said, shaking his head. He jerked his head towards the stairs that led to the rooftop patio; Harry followed him up, laughing, ready to spend the next hour free of Dark Lords and plots and manipulations. He would just relax for now and enjoy the moments of freedom while he could. He was sure the repercussions would come soon enough.  


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello! Finished another chapter, and technically it's still December 31st where I am, so technically I did make it at the end-of-December, right? ^^; Thank you everyone for your reviews! Feel free to point out any issues/thoughts, I enjoy reading people's ideas for what will happen next. Sometimes it makes me think about an angle I hadn't thought of before. Happy New Year!
> 
>  
> 
> Warning- some mild/slightly detailed gore

_The same night of Harry's excursion-_

The tapping echoed through the large hall, reverberating against the stone walls. It echoed so much that it was vastly distorted, transformed far from the original source that still continued. The Death Eaters assembled shifted nervously, some eyeing the door as they obviously wondered if it was too late to escape.

Voldemort didn't care if they were afraid - in fact the scent of light terror that hovered in the air did something to soothe his irritation. But he had a problem with the constant shifting, which removed the little comfort he could find. First from one side of the room and then the other, it was a disjointed symphony of clothed limbs rubbing and shoes scuffing against the ground.

It was lucky for them that Severus and Avery entered the hall just then, right before he prepared his wand to shoot a Cruciatus at the next person to move. He let it twirl lazily between his fingers and fought the urge to make them pay for the delay; their only saving grace was that he had suspicions of their holdup - the brat had snuck from the manor.

He didn't know exactly how, but he'd felt Harvey’s magical signature disappear, and then reappear outside of the manor’s wards. And shortly after it vanished altogether, which could only be due to apparition - or death. He was mostly sure it was the first one, but he wouldn’t make any promises once he got his hands on the little shit.

Severus took his place in line with the rest of the inner circle and Voldemort sighed, preparing to start the meeting. He knew there was nothing new to report, that this was just a formality. It rankled the darkness inside him that longed for violence.

“Tonight will be a raid.” The words came out suddenly, but as his followers muffled gasps he didn’t see anything wrong with a little change in schedule, so he let the newly formed idea grow.

And he liked the suddenness of this plan. _Less time for that meddling Dumbledore to react_ , he thought, observing Severus subtly as he glanced around the hall. Voldemort could feel the excitement and bloodlust rising around the room, but the man in question remained quiet and unreadable even as other inner circle members started to murmur. He knew Severus was trying to think up some way to inform Dumbledore, but it wasn’t obvious from his face - he had one of the most indifferent masks Voldemort had ever seen.

_No matter, I enjoy playing these games with him. We both know that I know he reports back to the old man._ That had never been a question - Voldemort knew he’d lost Severus as soon as he killed Lily Potter. No, the game they played was how far Severus pushed before Voldemort killed him for his betrayal. It ended whenever Voldemort decided it was over, and luckily for Severus he'd been amused so far. He decided abruptly that he’d question Severus about another troublesome issue, but pushed it away until after the raid.

The hall fell silent instantly when he stood from his throne, and when he stepped down from the dias to the marble floor, his followers gave way before him like waves against a massive rock. When he reached the center of the gathering Voldemort let his magic unfold, letting it pour out until it saturated the air. Some of the more sensitive Death Eaters fell out from intoxication but he ignored them, sure that someone would enervate them eventually.

He took a moment to review possible targets, quickly deciding. “For this raid, the main goal of the mission will be of retrieval. Stun as many targets as possible and group them up - team leaders will apparate them to Safe House Gamma and then return to the raid location for more. Those obstructing our progress should be removed...by whatever means you choose,” he added, the dark promise in his smile drawing eager laughs from the crowd.

He could go on, continue raising their bloodlust until the were whipped into a frenzy. But he was loath to draw the meeting out unnecessarily now that he'd decided on a course of action. And frenzied followers often forgot the more precise points of the raid in their desire to kill and maim.

“You shall use the mark to apparate to my location,” Voldemort said. Before he apparated his eyes met Severus’ and he smirked, then disappeared.

The location he chose was mundane on the outside - it wasn’t the middle of a muggle town, with their clunky metal cars and cookie cutter houses, or the well known Ministry of Magic. Voldemort arrived to a nondescript grey building of only two floors, dropped in an empty field miles from any human settlements. His lip curled as he looked it over, but his face smoothed as the first of his followers arrived behind him. Soon the clearing was filled with black capes and silver masks, and Voldemort paused to copy their attire. A black silk robe rippled into existence over his clothing, followed by black mask - the only one of its color.

It only took a moment for him to part the wards, which were of the most basic level. The creators probably never expected an attack or unwanted visitors, assured that no one knew of the building’s location. They were about to receive an unpleasant surprise.

Voldemort called simply, “Follow,” then apparated again to their final location. They regrouped inside of a long cavernous room that was dimly lit by floating glass spheres, but it was still too dark to make out the bulky shapes that sat in shadow along the walls.

“This is Research and Testing Facility B - where the Ministry holds suspected dark creatures for testing and experiments,” Voldemort said. He waved his wand and the glass spheres brightened, revealing cages stacked on top of each other containing all types of magical species. Rumbles of anger and dismay grew from the crowd of Death Eaters as they took in the hall, but Voldemort continued ruthlessly; there was no time for them to let them come to grips with what they were seeing; already the guards would be alerted to their invasion.

“Avoid any creatures that require special transportation more than a high powered stun - also avoid creatures in liquid or other substances. Retreat on my signal. Go now!”

Though this mission reeked of _activism_ and _good feelings,_ it was still important. The Death Eaters knew it as they ran forward, in the organized groups they’d learned and practiced in training. Voldemort watched them approach the cages and grimaced openly now that he stood alone. He wasn’t trying to be a hero with this raid - but he had to draw the line somewhere with what he turned a blind eye to. The Ministry had really sunk low with this venture.

Voldemort called Lucius through the Mark, and the blond appeared in front of him immediately. “Gather all the paperwork you can find - recruit someone to help you. I have a feeling we’ll need it to try to undo the effects of whatever chemicals the researchers have pumped into them.”

Lucius nodded and turned away, already scanning the hall for filing cabinets or hidden side rooms.

“And Lucius?” Voldemort called.

“Yes, My Lord?” Lucius answered, quickly turning back.

“About 5 minutes until authorities arrive.”

Lucius winced but nodded, then disappeared back into the crowd of Death Eaters that were running up and down the length of the hall. Voldemort had heard the mingled screams of his followers and the few guards that had arrived to fight back, but they were making good progress if the number of empty cages meant anything.

He stepped into the fray, immediately killing the first guard that charged towards him. The next went down with a bone-shattering curse, and the next fell to a silent Entrail-Expelling Curse, his face slack with shock as he tried to grasp the bloody organs spilling onto the floor. Voldemort stepped over the body carefully and looked for another target, leaving the creature removal to the Death Eaters.

A Death Eater in front of him fell to one of the remaining guards, who paled but started off strongly with a Blasting Curse. Voldemort waved it away, then started his own attack before the guard could regroup. It was simple work to summon the man's wand and snap it in one hand, followed by a Parselmagic acid curse that ate through bone at a nearly unstoppable pace. The entire encounter took no more than 30 seconds in his estimation. He moved around the liquifying body and took stock of the room.

It was frustrating, but Voldemort could already feel the wards tightening as the Aurors approached, and surely along with them would be Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix (but when had Snape found the time to alert the old coot?). It had been less than 5 minutes since his warning to Lucius; the real fight was about to start soon. The Aurors and the Order apparated into the hall, causing a halt to all movement for a second as both sides stared at each other, and then chaos erupted.

The Aurors were shooting to kill, and green lights bounced off of the walls as Death Eaters dodged and dove out of the way. Voldemort grunted and figured it was time to retreat, then quickly sidestepped a bright purple spell. He searched for the caster angrily, and saw Dumbledore advancing forward through the crowd.

“Tom, how do you conscience this? Kidnapping and killing innocents?” Dumbledore demanded. Another spell - bright yellow - soared just past his ear.

“That’s not my name - and let’s not gloss over the facts, old man. These creatures were locked up here by the Ministry, your precious light side,” Voldemort said coldly. “Your hypocrisy would astound me if I wasn’t used to it by now.”

“You shan’t twist this with your lies, Tom. You need to answer for your terrorist crimes,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head slightly. All the while he continued forward cautiously, though he lost some ground when Voldemort shot a nasty spell of his own at the Headmaster.

“It’s easy for you to call me a liar to avoid facing the truth,” Voldemort snapped. “Ask the Minister about Jeffrey Billings, the lead scientist in charge of this operation, then take a hard look at the side you’re claiming is good and right.”

Dumbledore paused, looking slightly uncertain, but Voldemort didn’t care; the lull in their argument provided just enough time. He sent a rhythmic pulse through the Dark Mark, and all around them small pops echoed as Death Eaters apparated away. Voldemort held the wards open just long enough to make sure everyone got out, then spun and disappeared, barely missing the stun Dumbledore shot at his back.

He arrived back in the throne room, now buzzing like a kicked beehive as Death Eaters moved about quickly. The medical team was combing through the room for the injured and doing preliminary scans on everyone, sending the obviously wounded to the official hospital wing of the manor.

Lucius appeared to his left with Severus as he looked over his followers, noting the team leaders that were still apparating in from dropping off their creatures.

“In all we freed 104 creatures, who are now at Safe House Gamma. The Specialty medical team was there to receive them, though they expressed to me their worries about treating some of the more rare creatures we brought,” Lucius said, beginning his general report. It would be quick and dirty, the most important facts. A more specific summary would come later on in the privacy of Voldemort’s office.

“Severus, you shall of course help them with any of the obscure potions they need,” Voldemort said quietly. “And I’m sure that you might know a thing or two about some of the creatures, so make yourself available for their questions.” He paused. “You may also come to me with any unsolvable problems. Report any difficulties they have.”

Snape nodded with a murmured, “Of course, My Lord.”

Voldemort didn’t comment on the number they’d saved; 104 was a decent amount, but only about one third of the creatures being held there. He motioned for Lucius to continue.

“The count of those injured is at 20, with injuries starting at mild and 2 critical cases,” Lucius said. He was studying a stack of papers carefully, and the conversation dropped as he focused on some specific lines on the page. Voldemort cleared his throat impatiently and Lucius jumped, then continued where he’d left off.

“The two critically injured were Wilson - who received a wide cut to his back from one of the guards, and Cranston. It sounds like he was clawed by a hippogriff while trying to remove it from the cage.”

Voldemort waited for Lucius to finish then asked, “Did you retrieve the medical files and other paperwork?”

Lucius nodded. “I've left everything on your desk, would you like to review them before I hand them over to the medical team?”

“I'll look them over first.” Voldemort didn't think it would really matter, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure of that before he released them. There was bound to be specific papers on the shady dealings involved to get the facility approved, which he would certainly keep to himself.

Lucius continued speaking but Voldemort had stopped paying attention, his eyes distantly watching the groups of Death Eaters slipping from the hall. The prolonged debriefing of the raid was becoming tedious, and his conversation with Dumbledore had aggravated him more than he would admit out loud.

“Enough,” he said abruptly, cutting off Lucius before another long report began. “We’ll continue this tomorrow morning. Lucius, continue supervising until things are well in hand. Severus, a word in my office.”

Voldemort didn't wait for either to respond but started walking from the hall, ignoring the many calls of well wishes and praises that came from the Death Eaters that belatedly noticed his presence. Just thinking of Dumbledore reminded him of the troubling issue that wouldn’t leave him alone. It was time to finally get an answer from Severus.

He and Severus walked to his office in a tense silence that Voldemort did nothing to dispel, their footsteps barely whispers against the marble floor. The silence became even more oppressive when they reached his office and the wall sconces flared to life, bathing the room in an deep red glow.

Voldemort settled into the chair behind his desk, a casual flick of his magic lighting the fireplace, then focused his attention on Severus. In the seconds after they’d entered the office Voldemort’s magic had built until they were surrounded by it, and the room was almost completely sealed off from the rest of the manor.

He didn’t break the silence, but to his credit Severus didn’t either; this was usually the point where his followers dug their graves, as they spilled the very secrets they were trying to keep as they anxiously tried to relieve the tension.

Voldemort knew that Severus would not make that mistake, and so he started the conversation.

“I’ve called you in here, Severus, because something is troubling me. Something that’s been bothering me for a while, and I think you have the answer.” He laced his fingers as he spoke, and watched Severus from half-closed eyes. The man was completely motionless except for a quick dart of his eyes towards Voldemort, too quick to be able to slip into his mind.

“What may I help you with, My Lord?” Severus asked calmly. “Of course I’ll do my best to ease your mind.” Still his eyes remained downwards in a display of subservience that they both knew was false.

Voldemort smirked and said, “I’m sure you will. There are actually a few worries I have, but the most pressing one…” He paused, then turned his chair slightly towards the fire. “Harvey Gregorovitch.”

A slight twitch moved across from Severus’ face, and was gone so fast that Voldemort could have imagined it. He added, “Does he remind you of someone? He seems so familiar, but the thought is just beyond my grasp.”

He watched closely but there was no other sign, and Severus’ voice was bland and even when he answered, “Gregorovitch’s son, My Lord? He seems unremarkable, thought it was mildly surprising to learn that the man had a son at all.”

Severus met Voldemort’s eyes directly, with the confidence of one who was sure of their position. Voldemort found nothing incriminating in his mind, just the brief glimpse of surprise when Severus had learned of Harvey and a mild curiosity as to why Voldemort was asking. But something about the first memory felt off.

“Come now Severus, I know you were shocked to see him,” Voldemort said, pushing back from the desk and walking over to the fire. “It was obvious in your face, he triggered a memory in you. It happened almost right after you-”

He stopped and stared into the fireplace, listening to the logs crackle as they split. “Right after you saw his face, his eyes.” He returned to his desk and leaned against the edge in front of Severus.

“Harry Potter,” he said, the name drawn out like a sigh, “How silly of me to not have seen it, and he’s been right in front of me all along.” Severus didn’t look up but it didn’t matter; Voldemort could sense the guilt, and the truth of the boy’s identity as he put the pieces together.

“My Lord-”

“Crucio.”

Severus went down immediately, his writhing more violent with each passing second. As the screaming began Voldemort stretched, then tapped his wand against the desk. He’d even thought of Lily Potter earlier, of her bright red hair and defiant eyes. The same blazing eyes he’d seen when he’d caught the boy skulking through the manor.

Finally he released the spell, and Severus quieted, his muscles still spasming. Each deep gasp for air rattled at the end.

“It’s been a long while since I’ve been this angry - so long since I was the last to find out something,” Voldemort said casually, watching the twitching heap of man. “And I’m sure Dumbledore knows, though it’s amazing that he hasn’t managed to reclaim the boy before now. The only question is, how much of this was planned by that fool Gregorovitch. And how much the boy himself knows.”

Severus struggled to coordinate his movement, his mouth flapping open and closed until he managed to rasp out, “Please my Lord...please spare the boy.”

Voldemort stared at him and then snorted. “Ah, Severus,” he said, lightly touching the bottom of his shoe to the man’s cheek, then pressed down on the flesh beneath his foot until Severus grunted weakly.

“I have to admire your persistence. But it seems you haven’t been punished enough for lying to your master. And what I do with the boy is completely out of your control.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! Sorry I dropped off for a month ^.^; but here's a new chapter, hope you enjoy!
> 
> No significant warnings for this chapter.

The gentle sound of birdcall nudged Harry awake. He looked around through narrow eyes, his disorientation slowly clearing as he recognized the suite he had in Voldemort’s manor. He stretched as he pulled himself off of the floor- he hadn’t even made it to the bed when he'd returned from Sal’s at 3am, but had kneeled along the edge and propped his head on his arms. The invisibility cloak lay in a pile of crumpled velvet under him, shifting like liquid every time he moved.

 Harry was glad that he'd woken up at all, though he was quickly feeling the consequences of only four hours of sleep. At least he'd be able to make it to breakfast in time, and just maybe convince Voldemort that he'd been in the manor all night….Harry straightened abruptly and took a closer look out of the bay windows, to the small garden just beyond. The light was too bright for 7 in the morning; too bright even for 9. Harry whipped his wand from his pocket and cast a quick tempus - 10:30am.

 “Shit!”

 His mind was empty for several seconds before he burst into motion, grabbing the invisibility cloak and stuffing as much as he could into his back pocket - then ran into the bathroom to do some damage control. Surprisingly the cloak was thin enough to fold on itself enough that most of it could fit, and only a small tail of velvet dangled by his ass; the magic mirror above the sink wouldn’t let him think long on that, however, as it suddenly piped up with its special commentary.

 “Oh you look dreadful, honey,” the mirror said cheerfully, “Just look at those bags!”

 One day Harry was going to follow through on his promise to destroy the nuisance, but he had to admit he looked pretty rough. Scourgify removed the wrinkles from his clothes and got rid of  most of the grime. It didn't fix his face though, which still held signs of exhaustion in the puffy under-eye bags and tired creases near his eyes and mouth.

 He didn't know any glamour spells to make his face look dewy and refreshed. And since it was a terrible idea to just wave his wand at his face and mumble some words, the best he could do was rake his fingers through his hair and leave it at that.

 Deciding to check the dining room first, just in case Voldemort was still there, he rushed from the room and down the hallway. Careening around the corner, he bounced off of a solid form and stumbled slightly. A firm grip saved him from continuing down to the floor; a small blessing until he realized who he'd run into. Those polished shoes looked pretty familiar...

 Harry swallowed and looked up at Voldemort’s face. He was now directly in the situation he’d been trying to avoid. Voldemort looked unimpressed, but there was an added darkness in the man’s eyes that told Harry he should tread very carefully.

 His mind spinning quickly, Harry stepped back as soon as Voldemort released him, needing more space from the Dark Lord.

 “I’ve been looking for you, My Lord.” Harry wanted to swallow his tongue immediately - that was such an obvious attempt at distraction. If only he’d thought about what he’d actually say once he saw the man.

 Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “You would have found me at breakfast, had you been there.”

 The words hung in the air for several seconds before Harry chuckled stiffly. “Yes! Well-I..was...busy working! I’ve finally finished the next version of your wand, I was coming to present it to you.”

 The first part sounded weak to even Harry’s ears, but he could see Voldemort snap to attention nonetheless. “Shall we go to your study?” Harry asked.

 Voldemort looked him over but nodded and led the way. It was unspoken that Harry would be punished in some way if he didn’t actually have the wand ready. He wasn’t ready to hand it over but it looked like he had no choice now thanks to his own rash words.

 In Voldemort’s study, Malfoy had been waiting looking relaxed and comfortable in one of the armchairs that stood in front of the fire. Voldemort only had to look at the man and he jumped up immediately, smoothing his robes and trying to ignore Harry’s snickering.

 Harry’s laughter caught in his throat when he became the next victim of Voldemort’s stare. He tried not to shuffle, attempting to project an appearance of confidence and ease. Maybe if he pretended he did nothing wrong, everyone else would believe it too?

 “The wand?” Voldemort asked. His eyes said he was barely holding onto his patience.

 Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked between them; perhaps he didn't know Harry was the one making them, though Harry doubted it was still a secret at this point. He swallowed and wished he didn't have an audience for this presentation. Then deadly intent began to seep from Voldemort, and Harry stopped stalling.

 The invisibility cloak was in the left pocket, but the wand was still in the right, still just as dark as when he'd first made it. It bit at his fingers as he pulled it out, but Harry ignored the growing discomfort. The potential pain from Voldemort’s impatience would far outweigh the nips from the testy wand.

 “Not even a box in which to store it?” Voldemort said. Harry winced at the soft mocking. From the slight curl of the man’s lip, he was ready to reject the wand without even touching it. But maybe there was something in Harry’s eyes as he held it out that made Voldemort pause, then reach out to grab it.

 Malfoy leaned forward, and Harry found himself leaning in as well, equal parts curious and anxious for Voldemort's reaction. But there was no reason to doubt his work this time, for as soon as Voldemort’s hand touched the wand the air grew heavy with magic.

 Hasty could see Voldemort’s pupils contract until only a thin slice of black remained, surrounded entirely by red.

 “This is it,” Voldemort murmured. Harry didn't know when he had let go, but he suddenly noticed the emptiness in his own hand as he watched Voldemort’s grip tighten around the wand. Harry could hear the wood singing, purring, repeating one word that sounded like “minemine _mine_ -”

 Malfoy inhaled sharply as the magic saturation continued rising, and Voldemort twitched at the sudden sound as if he'd forgotten they were in the room. His eyes snapped to Malfoy, and the man wasn't too ashamed to flinch at whatever he saw in Voldemort's expression.

 “Lucius, get out,” Voldemort said.

 Malfoy bowed quickly and all but ran out. Harry didn't dare shift once they were alone, even though the silence was building with something he couldn't quite name.

 Voldemort stepped forward, invading Harry's personal space. “So you finally did it,” he said. He ran the tip of the wand lightly against Harry's cheek. “It's marvelous - truly a masterpiece.”

 The words barely registered to Harry; he was shaken more by the touch of the wood - still giving him light shocks - and the pressure of the magic on his skin was at once overpowering and sensual. His was on the borderline of danger, and yet he couldn't deny the excitement coursing through him.

 Later he couldn't point out what drove him to do it. But just before Voldemort leaned away, Harry reached up for the man's face and pulled him into a kiss.

 There was only a short moment in which Voldemort stood unresponsive, before he took control and deepened the kiss. Before Harry realized it his mouth was pried open, and then their tongues were twining around each other in endless patterns.

 Harry had thought their last kiss was amazing; this kiss was so far beyond that he had no time to think at all. The kisses came faster and faster, like Voldemort was devouring him with each taste; Harry was happy to return the sentiment. Harry’s hands moved down Voldemort's face and traced the sharp cheekbones briefly before continuing down. He could feel the firm muscles under his palms, and the uneven rise and fall of Voldemort's chest. His own matched the pattern, both of them gasping for air between kisses.

 Voldemort backed him up until he was pressed against the wall next to the door, and began to trail kisses down Harry's neck.

Harry moaned softly, then yelped when Voldemort nipped the juncture of his neck; Voldemort soothed the bite with his tongue before switching to the other side. The sensations were almost too much - Harry felt feverish and weak, but he knew he wanted more.

 He reached for the bulge he could feel pressing against his leg, but Voldemort pulled away abruptly before he could run his hand over it fully.

“That's enough,” Voldemort said, and stepped back further. He ran his hands through his hair to straighten the few strands that were out of place. _“That bastard doesn’t even look ruffled,”_ Harry managed to think around his utter surprise. He couldn’t believe that Voldemort was really walking away, just when they were finally getting somewhere interesting, but the man confirmed it moments later, saying, “I have a meeting to get to in the library.”

He quickly gathered a stack of papers from his desk and added as if it was an afterthought, “Again, lovely work, remarkable. We'll have to discuss the next steps later, for getting your work to the public.” His eyes lingered on Harry’s limp form briefly before he left the room, leaving Harry staring blankly at the suddenly empty room.

Eventually Harry gathered himself enough to stand on his own feet instead of letting the wall support him, then straightened his own clothing, which was a good deal more rumpled.

_Why did he stop so suddenly?_ Voldemort had been as interested as Harry, and it was obvious that he forced himself back. _He didn’t suddenly lose attraction for me...what else could it be?_

The worry haunted him for the next hour as he wandered aimlessly around the manor; now that he’d created Voldemort’s wand there was no other pressing thing to do. Harry almost decided to visit his father - perhaps now was the perfect time for them to escape -  after all, the promise was fulfilled. Voldemort had what he wanted.

But the cloud hanging over him kept him away. And the kiss kept replaying through his mind along with the questions that he couldn’t answer. With his feet moving on autopilot Harry found himself in the more public wing of the manor, in a hallway of miscellaneous rooms that he didn’t oven visit.

 Harry made to turn around when he heard distant voices coming from one of the rooms towards the end of the hall - voices that he thought he recognized. After a second of hesitation Harry pulled the cloak from his pocket and flipped it over his shoulders. He moved closer and could tell that it was Malfoy and Snape, and was glad that he’d preemptively hidden himself.

  
They were in a potions laboratory, one of the many in the manor, and Harry thought it an obvious location for Snape even with the little he knew of the man. Both wizards had their backs to him, so Harry carefully settled into the corner just inside the door.

 “I don't understand your reluctance,” Malfoy was saying, “Draco would make an excellent consort for the Dark Lord. He has the perfect manners and attitude for one of such station. I expected that as his godfather, you’d be pleased for his potential rise in status.”

 His voice seemed a touch exasperated, which was surprising since Harry had only ever seen Malfoy calm and poised -as if he had only the highest quality stick rammed up his ass. But was the Dark Lord really looking for a consort? Harry didn’t know what he’d walked in on, but he was already starting to regret it. He strained to hear more, as if his urgency would make them continue faster, though a large part of him was dreading what else he'd overhear.

 “Draco is completely terrified of the Dark Lord,” Snape said absently, his attention focused on a spoonful of powder he was weighing on a scale. He divided the portion and scooped half into the potion simmering in the cauldron.

 “He's not terrified - he's appropriately submissive - but that's not the point. Now that the Potter boy is out of the way, Draco is in prime position to capture our Lords attention,” Malfoy said sharply.

 “The Dark Lord wouldn't even speak to Draco.”

 “He's presenting his proposal for the next raid to the Dark Lord now,” Malfoy said, the very air around him smug.

 The meeting in the library. Harry grabbed his hair and tugged sharply, trying to force himself to focus on the conversation and not the rising confusion.

 Snape had paused with his stirring rod just above the cauldron, but said a moment later, “I doubt they’re alone in there.”

 “That doesn’t matter, as long as Draco can show the Dark Lord some of his abilities.”

 “We’ll see then,” Snape said neutrally, then his head snapped up from the cauldron and he said, “Stupefy!”

 The spell hit the empty space of wall just in front of Harry where he was crouched, crawling back to the door; he jerked back quickly, staring at Snape, then hurriedly continued to the door.

 “What?” Malfoy asked, his wand out as well. His frustration seemed forgotten as he scanned the room quickly.

 Harry missed Snape’s response as he crept away from the lab as fast as he could. He’d heard enough, too much, and it was time to return to his room to regroup. Draco was clearly a relative of Malfoy - his son?- but who was ‘the Potter boy’? Were there two other people he had to fight for the Dark Lord’s affections?

 Because he could at least be honest with himself - that he wanted to be more intimate with Voldemort and see if a relationship between them could work. But had Voldemort just been playing with him earlier? Harry really needed to figure out what the _hell_ was going on, as soon as possible. And definitely before he made out with the Dark Lord again. Maybe. Perhaps kissing first, ask questions later? He was open to whichever came first, actually….well shit. He was in trouble.


End file.
